


Finding Home

by Papillon87



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Art AU, Depression, Established Relationship, Fluff, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, I swear it's actually soft, Implied/Referenced Bullying, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sexual Content, Suicide Attempt, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2019-10-31 02:26:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 57,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17840642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papillon87/pseuds/Papillon87
Summary: ‘We should go back,’ he sighs into Bin’s warm skin and reluctantly lifts his head.‘We should,’ Bin kisses him briefly, ‘but I don’t want to.’ He smiles and starts pressing more kisses on Dongmin’s cheeks, his nose, the corner of his mouth.‘My parents will kill me when they find out.’‘Shh, it’s going to be fine.’





	1. Prologue

## 

Prologue

 

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

 

The light from a single bulb, illuminating the restaurant’s small backyard with its stacks of discarded cardboard boxes and empty beer crates, flickers feebly above their heads.

To Dongmin, the dimly lit, gloomy area feels like the most beautiful place in the world. There is nowhere else he would rather be right now.

Bin is so close Dongmin can see tiny flecks of gold in the deep chocolate brown of his eyes. Bin’s taste still lingers on his lips.

Their second kiss. 

This time, Dongmin didn’t run away afterwards like he did a month ago, the morning after they kissed for the first time. The fear is still there, hidden in the twist of his stomach, visible in the trembling of his legs, but Dongmin knows now he belongs here. In Bin’s arms.

He feels it.

Home.

‘I love you so much,’ he buries his face in the crook of Bin’s neck, enveloped in the scent that is both familiar and thrilling in its novelty.

Bin doesn’t say anything, merely wraps his arms around him in a hug so tight, it’s difficult to say whether the heartbeat Dongmin feels is his own or Bin’s.

He knows they should return to the party. Somebody is bound to look for them soon, wanting to talk to Dongmin - the perfect son and a loving fiancé, the shining star of his parents’ restaurant who helped to overhaul the aging family establishment and return it to its former glory of the 1960s Busan – and the young and talented interior designer who made Dongmin’s dream possible.

Tonight’s re-opening of the Saltwater Room is a celebration of Bin’s achievement. Dongmin might have initiated the change but he is more than happy for Bin to take the spotlight; it was Bin, after all, who turned Dongmin’s vague vision into the tangible reality that is being admired by family and friends tonight.

‘We should go back,’ he sighs into Bin’s warm skin and reluctantly lifts his head.

‘We should,’ Bin kisses him briefly, ‘but I don’t want to.’ He smiles and starts pressing more kisses on Dongmin’s cheeks, his nose, the corner of his mouth.

Dongmin is melting in Bin’s arms.

However, the thought of eventually having to return inside, of talking to his relatives and his parents’ friends, smiling politely and uttering banalities with the taste of Bin’s skin still fresh on his lips, the feel of his body still filling his palms, makes Dongmin’s chest gradually tighten with fear.

He pushes Bin away, suddenly desperate to create some room between them, to make space for his lungs constricting with panic. 

Bin frowns a little, trying to hold onto him. 'You ok?’

‘My parents will kill me when they find out.’ Dongmin does his best to quell the anxiety spreading through his body but fails miserably. The reality what he is about to do is hitting him hard; his legs are shaking again, his whole body is starting to shiver, he feels cold, he can’t breathe.

‘Shh, it’s going to be fine.’ The understanding is there, in every Bin’s gesture, in the gentle compassion in his eyes. He lets go off Dongmin and softly pushes the hair off his forehead, fingers tender, careful.

’I need to break up with Dahyun,’ just the thought of his fiancée fills Dongmin with cold dread.

Bin shakes his head in confusion. ‘But the whole thing with her was a fake, you said. You have told me literally five minutes ago you were both pretending, that you were covering your backs - you, well, because you liked boys and Dahyun to get her parents off her back about getting married. So... was it... was it a fake or not?’

The hint of fear in Bin’s voice is unmistakable.

Dongmin knows he is hardly in a position to blame Bin for his confusion and insecurity, for wanting definite answers. Since they kissed a month ago he was avoiding Bin as much as he could, without any explanations, barely able to look at him at all. Fearing the questions, the longing hidden in Bin's eyes, afraid of answers he wanted to say out loud but could not yet give.

_He must have thought I was angry, that I was blaming him for what happened._

To come to the opening night thinking Dongmin hated him and, to add insult to injury, being confronted by the fact Dongmin had a fiancée, must have been hell for Bin and he feels a sharp pang of guilt.

Bin deserves answers, he deserves honesty, he knows it.

‘The whole thing is a fake, Binnie,’ he sighs heavily. ‘I swear I told you the truth.’

The relief on Bin’s face is like sun breaking through the clouds, blinding and bright, dazzling Dongmin’s eyes.

For a moment he forgets about everything and simply basks in the glory of Bin’s smile.

‘If it wasn’t real, then everything is fine, why are you worried?’ Bin strokes Dongmin’s hair. ‘You have already told her about us and she was fine with it. And,’ a cheeky grin flashes across his face, ‘even if she felt a bit sad, I know somebody who will help her to get over you really quickly.’

‘What?’ Against his will, Dongmin huffs with laughter. The knot of anxiety in his stomach is briefly forgotten, his breathing back to normal.

‘Hyungshik,’ Bin’s crooked smile keeps warming his heart. ‘I saw them at the party. I didn’t know, of course, that you two agreed to break up, so I was a bit shocked when I noticed Dahyun,’ he snickers, looking for the right word, ‘let’s say, stealing longing glances in Hyungshik’s direction.’

He giggles, clearly pleased with himself for having found the right, rather poetic, turn of phrase and Dongmin can’t help but smile with him.

‘See, for a moment I thought she was cheating on you or something. Now it makes perfect sense. Everything will be fine.’

‘Oh. It’s Hyungshik then. I told you I had a feeling she liked someone.’ It’s a nice surprise, alleviating Dongmin’s sense of guilt, but the relief is short-lived.

‘We still have to go through with the charade though, to pretend we are splitting up. We have to tell all our friends. Oh God, I have to tell my parents that we are breaking off our engagement.’ Dongmin groans and leans against the wall. ‘We agreed with Dahyun that it would be a mutual break-up but I’m dreading it. Mum has been planning the wedding in her head already, I’m sure about that; I know her too well. She really likes Dahyun. When we were together, it was like she finally had a daughter she always wanted; they became really close. She will be totally devastated. Dad will be even worse. He thought Dahyun was an ideal match - intelligent, well brought up, pretty, the whole package. He will be so disappointed; I’m sure he will blame me for everything.'

He rubs his forehead, feeling weary to the bone. 'I suppose it's ok. I don’t want Dad to be cross with Dahyun, not when the break-up was my idea. She shouldn’t be blamed for anything.’

Bin pulls him back onto his chest. ‘It’s gonna be fine. It’s not like we need to do anything tonight. We will get through it together.’

Dongmin raises his head, panicked, ‘Binnie! Even after Dahyun and I break up, I’m not telling my Mum and Dad about… about us! You… you understand that, right? I just … I can’t do it yet, I just can’t. Not yet. I’m sorry.’

The feeling of shame about his own cowardice washes over him like a giant, heavy wave, crushing him to the ground.

Bin smiles softly, ‘It’s fine, Min. We don’t need to tell anyone yet. We have time.’

The warmth of Bin's emrace is entoxicating and he allows himself to be enveloped in his arms for a little longer.

_We have time._

_One more minute before we go back. One more minute._

_Just one minute more._

 


	2. Sunny Day

 

## 

A Sunny Day 

_Eight years later_

 

The sun was throwing its pale rays through the living room window, flooding the space with a soft glow. Specks of dust floated in the air, like tiny sparkling moths dancing in the light of the early Saturday morning.

Dongmin poured himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, feeling oddly elated. Sooner or later everyone learned to treasure sunny weather in San Francisco; he knew that at any time the ever-present fog could envelope everything around, its soft, moist tendrils reaching out from the bay and spreading like a steam from a hot bath. 

Despite his mild excitement about the beautiful morning, Dongmin didn't mind fog or rain too much. Weather was overrated; he never understood how people could discuss it in all seriousness. 

Taking the mug with him, he softly padded through the living room towards his favourite spot, the deep bay window.

He looked down onto the street below, taking the first tentative sip from the steaming mug. The Barboni family from the ground floor was piling into their car, Mrs Barboni holding a massive tray – it must be a cake, Dongmin thought, – Mr Barboni shouting and gesticulating, trying to get going, while their three teenage children, two boys and a girl, appeared various degrees of exasperated.

Dongmin grinned and enjoyed the pantomime until the Barboni family departed, undoubtedly on one of their regular family visits. North Beach was a lively neighbourhood, drawing in young, urban crowd, but there were still a few families living here, descendants of the Italian community who used to rule North Beach - or little Italy, how it was sometimes called - in the 1920s and 1930s; they still remembered the ‘good old days’. 

The spectacle in the street over, he absentmindedly checked his phone while waiting for the coffee to cool down. For the last couple of days he has been expecting news from Rocky and _voilà_ , there was a new e-mail sitting in his inbox, waiting to be read.

His stomach gave an unpleasant lurch as he eyed the phone, finger hesitating above the screen. If he opened the e-mail, everything would become real, more tangible, despite the wonderful news it was bringing.

_Ok. Let’s get it over and done with._

The hot coffee burned his lips as he took a gulp, hurriedly clicking on the message. He knew what it was, of course. Rocky had been doing nothing but talking about his upcoming wedding for the last couple of months, so the official invitation contained no surprising news. The date, venue and everything else had been discussed in detail and Dongmin was amazed how Rocky, the charismatic dance guru, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the process. 

_Who would have thought?_

Dongmin guessed that one reason for Rocky's enthusiasm was the fact that he and Songyi were paying for the wedding themselves and could do as they pleased. Their dance school was immensely successful and, having both come from humble backgrounds, Rocky and Songyi took pride in not burdening their families with the cost of the wedding. The other reason, Dongmin thought, was that they both still seemed hopelessly in love with each other and enjoyed every second spent together, whether it was dancing a fiery salsa or picking linen for the wedding reception.

Swirling patterns of the background framed Rocky's and Songyi's beaming faces. The invitation was beautiful but he knew it would be. He saw one of Bin's early drafts, although the final version was kept secret from everyone but the bride and groom-to-be.

A surge of warmth towards Rocky and his fiancée made him smile. He was truly happy for those two. If anybody deserved happiness, it was them. He was determined not to let the clawing anxiety in the pit of his stomach spoil today’s great news.

As he stood up to pour himself more coffee, his eyes fell on a framed picture of Dahyun, Hyungsik and little D, propped on the windowsill. Sweet Dahyun, one of his few remaining ties with Busan now. She would let time glide by carelessly, not being in touch for months, then surprised him with a lovely message full of pictures and news about everyone. Hers, Rocky’s and Jinjin's messages were sometimes the only thing which kept his homesickness at bay. Sometimes they made it worse.

Holding the steaming mug, he crossed the living room and sat at the piano. The lid was open, inviting. His fingers were itching to touch the keys but through the open bedroom door he could see Bin was still asleep, arms thrown over his head, drawn curtains casting deep shadows over his face.

Splats of paint all over him suggested Bin had gotten up at some point in the night and had been painting till the early hours. He never washed up after a painting spree, the dork, just fell back into bed, exhausted. Dongmin couldn't help but smile. Sitting on the piano stool, he watched Bin's chest rise and fall. The love, after eight years, sometimes still caught him by surprise. It would be their anniversary in two weeks. Eight years…

He turned to the piano. Sheets of music were piled on top in messy heaps, with several coffee and tea mugs left there since Julia, their domestic goddess and housekeeper, came to clean on Thursday. It was only Saturday but the piano looked in much need of her efficient hand. 

He gathered the mugs and went to the kitchen to put them in the dishwasher. No need to give Bin a reason to worry. He often made jokes how he was able to read Dongmin's mood just by how much mess he left around when preparing for his lessons or practicing his pieces for Carlo's. 

Thank God he's been too busy to notice anything lately, thought Dongmin. Today Bin was having his first own exhibition at WhiteSpace, one of the galleries dotted along Grant Avenue on Telegraph Hill. The gallery had sold some of his paintings and quite a few sketches before but today was his first showing and for the last month or so Bin had been veering from excitement to anxiety, the mood swings getting worse as the date of the exhibition inched nearer.

Trying to calm himself down, he spent most of his spare time painting, either in the tiny back room which had been converted into his studio, or squeezing his easel into the bay window, making the most of the morning light on the weekends.

Dongmin felt relieved and was actively encouraging Bin to keep focused on painting and not much else. The timing of the exhibition was a blessing in a way. Under normal circumstances Dongmin wouldn’t be able to hide his anxiety from Bin for much longer; that much he was sure of. His boyfriend’s brilliant sense of smell, it seemed, didn’t only applied to scent, he could also read the mood around him with an unnerving precision. 

Their argument on Wednesday cleared the air a little but did nothing to help Dongmin to decide. He was painfully aware of the pressing of time, of the need to make up his mind; he promised Bin he would; he owed it to Rocky.

_It only things were that easy._

Dongmin stared at the piano keys. He should get to work, he should prepare for his class on Monday.

He had been a part-time music teacher at Lindmann High, an expensive prep school near San Mateo, south of San Francisco, for almost three years now. He liked the kids, the colleagues were nice and, despite the long commute, the job itself was fulfilling and at the same time flexible enough, allowing him to do what he loved the most - to play piano.

Despite never being tempted by grand concert halls and big audience, he loved performing and loved his second job as a resident pianist at Carlo's, one of the local bars, right in the heart of North Beach. He would not give it up for anything. The crowd was great and Josh, the club manager, more or less gave him a free reign when choosing the music after he hired him.

‘Once you get to know the regulars, you’ll know what works for them. Stick with jazz for now, that seems to be your thing and it always goes down well here.’

He loved what he did; when playing piano, he was complete. The feeling was an old one; he couldn’t remember the time when he didn’t feel that way.

......................

_One of his most powerful childhood memories was the thrill of listening to music he could coax out of his great-great-aunt Sunmi’s old piano at the back of his parents’ restaurant._

_His mother would often find little Dongmin sitting at the back, short legs dangling from the stool, not quite able to reach the floor, and pressing the keys at random, laughing when he managed to play a simple melody she would recognise and reward him with a clap._

_‘The boy has talent,’ his grandmother would remark while listening to his tinkling. ‘You should find him a music teacher.’_

_Dongmin remembered how his chest swelled with pride when he heard her words. His family was strict and praise was not something he was showered with often – but hearing it from his grandmother made it doubly sweet._

_His mum’s parents, grandma and grandpa, doted on him equally but Dongmin, since he could remember, always gravitated toward his grandmother._

_She was the one who encouraged him to immerse himself in music, to explore, to challenge himself. She persuaded his parents to take his talent seriously, organised the old piano to be moved to his room so he could practice and found him an excellent teacher._

__

_Couple of days before his seventh birthday, Dongmin discovered that Aunt Sunmi’s old piano stood in the restaurant yet again and there was a brand new one in his room, something that almost made him die from excitement._

_He could tell grandma was responsible, by the way she silenced her daughter and her husband who were protesting that it was too much and that she was spoiling Dongmin by giving him such an expensive present._

_‘It’s my money; don’t worry about it. Consider it an early birthday present,’ she turned to Dongmin._

_‘I couldn’t wait until Saturday,’ she winked at him, ‘I was too excited.’_

_Dongmin could see his mum opening her mouth to say something but her grandmother simply smiled. ‘Why shouldn’t I spoil him? He is my only grandchild after all.’_

_To Dongmin’s horror, his mum’s eyes filled with tears and grandma seemed contrite all of a sudden._

_‘I am so sorry, my baby girl. I didn’t mean it like that. This time it will be fine, I’m sure of it.’ She put her hand on her daughter’s stomach._

_Dongmin squirmed a little uneasily. The atmosphere in the room changed abruptly and he had no idea why. I seemed all adults in the room were in onto a secret and he had been left out. For a moment he almost wished he wasn’t there when Dad put a protective arm around Mum’s shoulders and shot grandma a warning look for some reason, as if daring her not to speak any further._

_Mum must have spotted his confused and slightly scared look because she blinked couple of times and smiled at him, if a little shakily. Soothingly, she rubbed Dad’s hand on her shoulder._

_‘It’s fine, mum. I know you didn’t mean it. But back to the piano. I still think it was an extravagant present. Could you please ask me next time? And does dad even know? So much money?’_

_Grandma grinned a little mischievously,’ It’s my money, my girl, have you forgotten? So don’t worry about it. But I promise, I will ask your advice next time. I might not follow it,’ another cheeky grin, ‘ but I will ask.’_

_The heavy mood in the room lifted somehow and Dongmin exhaled._

_Granma took his little hands in hers. ‘Happy birthday, my brightest star,’ she smiled at him gently._

_She always called him that._

_He hugged her as tight as he could and for a second he thought there was a glimpse of tears in her eyes; but they were different from the ones that almost spilled down his mum’s cheeks earlier; they seemed happier somehow, lighter._

_Kissing the top of his head, she softly poked his side, ‘I think you should play a song for us now, what do you think?’_

_He nodded shyly and slowly opened the lid._

_Later, sitting together in their little office at the back, the grown ups nursing their teacups and Dongmin sipping on his lemonade, he couldn’t shake off a strange feeling. It had nothing to do with the piano dominating his room now – although maybe it did – no, it was something his grandma said, which he found odd._

_Dongmin didn’t understand much about money, he simply knew both his grandparents and parents never worried about it too much therefore he deduced his family must be rich. But something uttered by grandma in his room earlier didn’t make much sense to his seven-year-old brain._

_‘Grandma?’ He snuggled against her side, as she and grandpa were about to leave._

_‘Yes, my star?’_

_‘Why did you say it was your money? I thought,’ he struggled, not quite able to capture in words what he felt. ‘Is your money not grandpa’s money as well?'_

_She smiled, crouched down and looked him directly in the eye, ‘Can I show you something?’_

_Dongmin felt oddly thrilled. Granma never treated him as a little boy, she always made him feel as equal. He knew he wouldn’t be fobbed off with some silly answer grown ups sometimes gave kids when they thought the young ones wouldn’t understand._

_Straightening, grandma winked at her husband, 'Will you give us a minute, darling? I need to explain something to Dongminnie.’ She took him by hand and led him through the empty restaurant, past the rows of tables, each with a gleaming bottles of soy sauce in the middle, chairs nice and straightened, all the way to the piano in the back._

_Yoon Huynwook, one of the waiters, was stripping some of the tables of their tablecloths and replacing them with fresh ones. He bowed as they walked past and offered Dongmin a quick smile._

_Shyly, Dongmin smiled back. He liked Hyunwook. The waiter was a kind man in his early thirties with a pleasant round face who was almost always smiling and who often had a little treat for him when he walked through the kitchen after school, heading for the office at the back where he would find his parents, either on the phone arranging deliveries, dealing with paperwork or having a quick cup of tea before the dinner crowd descended._

_Yoon Hyunwook was nice, Dongmin found, but he liked the chef, Kim Seokjin – or Jin, for short – the best, even if he could be a little short-tempered and scary when things got too busy in the kitchen._

_Jin had a nice voice – if Dongmin had the vocabulary at seven he would probably describe it as velvety – and he could play guitar. After finishing for the day, he would often grab his battered instrument that permanently lived in the office, propped against the wall in the corner, and entertain everyone with trot songs while they were eating together after all the work was done._

_Dongmin didn’t get the chance to see him playing very often as this would happen way past his bedtime but on the rare occasions he was there with his parents, he felt mesmerised._

_In the afternoons, if he managed to catch Jin having a break between the lunch and dinner shifts, be would often beg him to teach him to play._

_‘Your fingers are tiny, you must eat better,’ was Jin’s standard answer but eventually he caved in and taught him couple of chords, laughing good-naturedly at Dongmin’s first lame attempts._

_Dongmin could hear him singing now, the voice coming from the kitchen and echoing through the empty restaurant, accentuated by the sound of chopping knives and clattering of pots, as Jin and his crew were preparing food for dinner guests which would start arriving shortly._

_They stopped in front of the piano._

_‘Do you know who this is?’ She pointed at the photograph hanging on the wall._

_‘That’s Auntie Sunmi.’_

_‘That’s right, it’s your great-great aunt Sunmi.’_

_For a moment neither of them said a word, looking at the portrait of a young women with a striking face, sitting at the piano._

__

_‘She used to love playing piano,’ grandma smiled but it was a faraway smile, one that Dongmin knew wasn’t meant for him._

__

_‘Was she your auntie too?’ He felt a bit stupid, calling the beautiful young woman his grandma’s aunt, but the photo reminded him of pictures in a book his parents had that showed Busan from a long time ago, so his aunt must have lived a long time ago, he reasoned._

__

_‘Yes, my star. She was my aunt.’_

__

_‘Does she… Is she still…’ He frowned, trying to work out how old Aunt Sunmi would be if she lived but wasn’t sure._

__

_Grandma seemed to understand. ‘No, love. She passed away before you were born, when your mum was a young girl.’_

__

_She ruffled his hair absentmindedly, as if he was a little puppy._

__

_‘Auntie Sunmi loved playing piano for her guests. Right here. The piano was always here, in the same spot.’_

__

_‘Her guests?’_

__

_‘Yes, my star. This restaurant used to be hers.’_

__

_‘Oh.’_

__

_For a second, grandma regarded him with a direct gaze, as if contemplating how much to tell him. Dongmin could hardly breathe. He loved grandma’s tales about animals and magical creatures, but the ones that excited him most were stories about his own family, about grandma when she was a little girl._

__

_Holding his hand a little heavily, as if her strength deserted her suddenly, she sank into one of the chairs and pulled him closer._

__

_‘You see, Dongminnie, Aunt Sunmi didn’t have any children. Grandpa and I used to help her in the restaurant. We lived with her when we first got married, when your mum was a baby; it’s the same house we live in now. Aunt Sunmi loved us all and she wanted us to carry on when she grew too old to manage the restaurant. So before she died, she left everything to me.’_

__

_‘Only you? Why not granddad? Did she not like him?’ confused, Dongmin pulled grandma’s sleeve. She seemed lost in thoughts, eyes staring out of the window, watching the busy street basking in the spring sunshine._

__

_‘I guess she must have felt… guilty, after all.’ For a moment grandma looked older than her years, old and tired, and a little teary._

__

_‘Guilty? What did she do?’ Dongmin felt utterly confused and grandma looked at him, as if awaking from a daydream._

__

_She straightened in the chair, an expression on her face that Dongmin knew well. Grandma was a sweet soul but Dongmin never managed to have her wrapped around his little finger, the way he was able to do with some older ladies in the neighbourhood. No, his sweet smile didn’t always work with grandma; when she said no, she meant it._

__

_Her guarded face told Dongmin there would be no answers to his question and he knew better that to press it any further._

__

__

_After a moment she let go, the smile on her face soft and relaxed again. ‘Never mind, my star; that’s a story for grown-ups. But Aunt Sunmi loved playing piano and I know she would love to listen to you playing. Music was her passion; if she were here she would be the one buying you the piano straight away, never mind what your mum and dad would be telling her. So don’t worry about anything, I simply did what she would have done too.’_

__

_Their eyes met, a warm feeling of conspiracy enveloping Dongmin like a blanket._

__

_‘Let’s go back, my star.’_

__

_‘And grandpa? Did you really not tell him?’ Dongmin couldn’t help but ask, remembering his mother’s words._

__

_Grandma chuckled a little, “No, Dongminnie, of course we talked about it. I just couldn’t help to tease your mum a little. Your grandpa wants you to carry on playing as much as I do.’_

__

_He felt himself exhale. There was always a strong bond between him and his grandmother and sometimes he felt a little bad about grandpa being left out. He was nice, Dongmin loved him, but they both seemed to like very different things. Dongmin loved playing piano, reading, swimming and helping in the garden; his grandpa liked fishing, watching sports on telly and going to the market early in the morning, a habit from all those years spent sourcing the freshest supplies for the restaurant._

__

_Maybe if I ever have a brother or sister they can go fishing with grandpa, he thought._

__

_Hand in hand, they returned to the others._

__

_Mum was hugging grandpa in the door, inviting them over for a lunch next week._

__

_‘We’ll see you very soon, my star.’_

__

_‘Practice. I would like to hear a new song when we come,’ grandpa ruffled his hair and smiled._

__

_‘I will.’_

__

_After their car pulled away from the curb, he went back inside. His parents were already disappearing into the back office to help with preparations for the dinner shift._

__

_‘I’ll stay and play piano for a while, ok?’_

__

_Returning to the piano, he slowly opened the lid._

__

_From the picture, Aunt Sunmi was watching. Her lips were curled in a half-smile, her head not quite turned to the camera, as if she simply lifted her gaze from the keys to smile at the photographer for the briefest of moments, before returning back to what mattered most, to the music she was playing._

__

_For a second he had a feeling she smiled only for him and, grinning as if he was hiding a secret, he touched the keys gently and started playing._

__

…………………

_Over the years, Aunt Sunmi kept smiling at him from the wall, listening to the songs he sometimes practiced on the old piano, instead of the beautiful new one in his room, or silly duets they would try with his grandma, even scales when he felt Aunt Sunmi looked a little lonely, with no one keeping her company._

_The pieces he played changed gradually, become more difficult, more mature; as he grew older, he sometimes stayed in the evening and played for the guests._

_At first he hated it but his parents insisted despite his protests._

_‘I hate it.’_

 _One afternoon grandma caught him sulking because of it and, after a little bit of gentle pressing, he explained._

_‘Why don’t you like it?’ She didn’t sound angry, simply interested._

_‘It’s like showing off, like I’m bragging. And everyone is so… Oh, you so good, well done, and all that.’ He hung his head, felling almost angry._

_‘My star’, grandma sighed a little heavily. ‘It’s not about you. It’s about the music you are sharing with others. Let them enjoy it. It might be you who is bringing it to their lives but you are only a messenger – so don’t worry too much about those who rave about you. They were still touched by the beauty of it but sometimes people don’t know how to express it.’_

_And so he kept going, practicing and performing, the hours spend at both instruments becoming a blurry stream of time, undistinguishable yet exciting, filled with music that was becoming the one thing that dominated his life, gradually pushing everything else to the side._

_He never associated the Saltwater Room with the delicious cacophony of noises, smells, textures and colours of food, the way Jinjin did, the young sous-chef whom his parents employed when Dongmin was in his first year at university studying music, and who quickly became his best friend._

_For Dongmin, the restaurant was the ancient piano standing in the corner, with the framed photograph of his great-great-aunt Sunmi sitting behind it, on the wall above._

_To his grandpa’s and father’s disappointment, as he grew older he could not muster enough enthusiasm for the family business. He suspected his mother was probably even more hurt about it but she hid it better. She somehow saw that for Dongmin, the music was much more than a pleasant hobby to pass the time and impress his relatives. With time she understood that there was no space in his head, or his heart, for anything else and that he would not be following in his father’s footsteps._

_Dongmin felt bad about disappointing his parents but felt powerless; the pull of music was too strong. He was immensely grateful to his grandma who helped to persuade his father to let Dongmin study music. By then his mother accepted the path her son chose but his father took a long time to get over the bitter feeling of not having his eldest as passionate as himself over something that meant a world to him and his wife._

_The only consolation for his family, Dongmin would sometimes think with a mix of bitterness and relief, was the arrival of his baby brother Donghwi._

_From very early on, young Donghwi, ten years his junior, seemed fascinated by the restaurant. He couldn’t get enough of its kitchen, full of nervous buzz in the evenings, never missed the opportunity to go and have a look at the big ovens in the basement, loved the enormous walk-in fridge with its heavy door where ingredients were kept fresh on long shelves._

_Donghwi trailed behind granddad, every time he and dad went to the market, eager to smell, touch and taste. He would turn bright red from pride when Jin allowed him to stir one of the big pots on a quiet night and would watch in fascination as Hyunwook showed him how to use a big coffee machine with its hissing stream of boiling water and hot milk coming out from gleaming sprouts that had to be polished every day._

_Dongmin felt oddly jealous sometimes, watching the lightness with which Donghwi babbled away happily as he stood on a stool, side by side with Jin, watching the chef, or helping dad to unload fish he brought from the market, naming them all confidently._

_The moments of jealousy were mostly short-lived. Deep inside Dongmin knew his choice was the right one for him and seeing the pride in his grandma’s and mother’s eyes as he finished his first year as the top of the year eventually brought the relief he needed to forgive himself._

_He still came to the restaurant in the evenings to play for the guests sometimes; he loved it now. The awe on their faces when they got captivated by the music was worth it._

_Jinjin, the new sous-chef, became one of his biggest fans. The young man, two years older than him, was a down-to-earth, kind soul who never got swooned by Dongmin’s status as a music prodigy, despite being the first one to admit, without an inch of envy, how much he admired his skills._

_‘We both create art – and neither of it lasts so don’t go all high and mighty on me. The moment you stop playing there is nothing. And the guests eat my work - so we’re equal.’_

____

_‘True,’ laughed Dongmin. ‘Music is just air molecules bouncing in a different way. I'm not creating much, am I? You can at least feed your admirers.’_

____

_He loved Jinjin; his sharp wit, and often sarcastic remarks kept him grounded. It felt good to be reminded there was life beyond music rooms at campus and the piano standing at the back of the restaurant._

____

………………

____

_Dongmin’s harmonious life was shaken seriously at the end of his third year when his father had a heart attack._

____

_Music prodigy or not, the importance of family was something he never questioned and without being asked, he offered to get more involved until his father would be well enough to come back. He gave up his student jobs and spent every minute after school in the restaurant, trying his best to help his mother._

____

_After an initial awkward period, the staff quickly accepted him when they saw that he wasn’t afraid of working hard and get his hands dirty. He didn’t know everything but never pretended he did and his humility was what finally earned him their trust._

____

_Sanha, Hyunwook’s son, who started waiting the tables at the same time Dongmin joined the team, was eager to become friends with the owner’s handsome son. A tall, lanky high school kid was in awe of Dongmin whom he remembered playing piano back in the days when he sometimes came to the restaurant with his father as a little boy._

____

_‘I remember you,’ Sanha squealed when they finally had the opportunity to talk to each other during their first week. ‘I always thought you were so cool.’_

____

_‘And I remember you,’ Dongmin retorted with a grin. “You were always so cute.’_

____

_He watched with amusement as the tall bean of a boy blushed and squealed even more._

_‘You two,’ Jinjin beckoned from the office. ‘Stop fawning over each other and come sit down. It’s time to have some fun.’_

____

_During the long summer nights, when the staff locked up for the day and sat together to eat at the long table near the kitchen, Dongmin would often end up squished between Jinjin and Sanha, listening to Jinjin waxing about new recipes he would conjure, if given a free hand._

____

_Dongmin couldn’t relate and teased his friend a little._

_‘Shut up,’ Jinjin simply shook his head and laughed. ‘You, out of all people, should understand. When I’m cooking I feel what you feel when playing piano.’_

_____ _

_And Dongmin understood._

_____ _

 

.........................

 

As he gradually became better known at Carlo’s, people would sometimes ask him whether he was writing his own songs, when would they be able to hear them, but he never felt drawn to composing. In theory he could see the appeal but he much preferred analysing and interpreting someone else's music.

_____ _

'I guess I'm not creative enough. It would be full of plagiarism and somebody would end up suing me,' he would joke when friends teased him about his lack of artistic ambitions.

_____ _

No, being able to dissect a great piece, to breathe life into it, immerse himself in it, that was his ultimate goal. To guess how the composer would have loved it played, maybe put his own stamp on it, little twists here and there – this was the thrill he needed. It was his life.

_____ _

…………………

_____ _

Dongmin leafed through the top of the biggest pile on the piano. He found a couple of pieces which he could use for his Monday lessons and laid them aside. To utilise his skills during teaching wasn’t always needed but he loved demonstrating whatever they were learning about, whatever time period they were discussing, with little pieces of music he would play to his pupils.

Having picked what he needed for Monday, he sighed a little heavily. He should be looking for the sheet music for ‘Maple Leaf Rag’ too but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Josh mentioned the piece last week because of Mr Walters, but he hadn't touched it since that phone call two years ago. He simply couldn't. The memory of his father telling him he was no son of his didn't hurt any less after two years and he didn’t need anything to remind him of it.

_____ _

He had been playing the piece, wanting to surprise Bin with it on his birthday when his father rang him. He did perform it at the birthday party later that night but had not touched it since.

_____ _

It was clear he would need to play it eventually. Mr Walters, one of the long-standing customers at Carlo’s, who very hesitantly and politely asked for it, was a retired pianist himself whose brilliant career had been cut short by severe arthritis. It would be rude not to oblige and Josh had hinted as much. Dongmin knew that he had been understanding when, before hiring him, he had accepted Dongmin’s one and only condition, never have to perform ‘Maple Leaf Rag.’ Now the ball was in his court.

_____ _

He quickly pushed the thoughts aside. There will be time to deal with ‘Maple Leaf’ later.

_____ _

A quiet knock on the door stopped the nagging thoughts in his head. He knew it would be Jennie, their neighbour living on the first floor. She liked going to the farmer’s market in Columbus Avenue every Saturday morning and would often bring him a tub of goat cheese that she knew he loved. It was a token of gratitude from her for teaching her 6-year old daughter Ellie piano every Sunday for almost nothing. He never told her that she didn’t need to do it, that for him it was not about the money, that he actually enjoyed teaching Ellie who was the same age as little D whom he never met. Jennie, a make-up artist, was always short of money but was proud and would not accept charity, hence him always gratefully accepting any delicacies she sometimes brought for him and Bin.

.......................

_They had met Jennie three years ago when they moved into the apartment above hers. A vivacious blonde with an infectious laugh, she was a single mum to Ellie, a little beauty with bouncing golden curls who managed to win Dongmin’s heart within five minutes after they had met. Jennie bumped into them on the pavement outside the building, amidst the chaos of removal boxes, crates and two burly men, hired to haul the piano to the top floor. She introduced herself, offered to help and lend whatever they needed, and later that night she brought mouth-watering lasagne, which Bin inhaled within 30 seconds after the door closed behind her._

_____ _

_The reason for Jennie’s friendliness became more apparent when couple of weeks later - the apartment being made more or less presentable - they invited her over as a thank you for all her help. After a pizza and copious amount of red wine, Jennie made a clumsy proposition to Dongmin, more hinted at than spelled out loud, and, for a split of a second, he felt horrified. He really liked her and the thought of the awkwardness that would ensue after the evening really upset him. Blushing, looking over to Bin who was trying very hard not to laugh and clearly found the whole situation hilarious, he explained. After a moment of stunned silence, to his immense relief, she slapped his thigh and roared with laughter._

_____ _

_‘Good grief, you two, how come my instinct have completely failed me here? Now I need to crawl into a corner and die from embarrassment!’_

_____ _

_After many reassurances that everything was fine, and even more wine, they parted like true friends._

........................

Another knock. He jumped up to open the door.

_____ _

Jennie stood outside holding several bags, hair in a messy bun and cheeks rosy from running up the stairs. She always said their staircase was the cheapest gym in San Francisco. That, and the hilly streets, of course.

_____ _

‘Hey honey, how are you? Brought you something, right in time for breakfast,” she handed him the cheese.

_____ _

‘Thank you, you are spoiling me,’ he smiled.

‘I have to,’ she grinned, ‘must keep you sweet. Anybody who is able to make Ellie sit at the piano for more that five minutes is worth their weight in gold. She is making so much progress. I am taking her to over to Mum’s later today, by the way, so you can have a lie-in tomorrow after the showing. No need for stompy nursery rhymes when your head is pounding,’ she winked.

_____ _

‘I am not planning to drink myself under the table, excuse me. I need to behave and stay graceful, it’s Binnie’s reputation that’s at stake,’ he feigned indignation.

_____ _

‘God, I know, that will be me, most likely,’ Jennie sighed dramatically. She was invited as well, as one of their closest friends.

_____ _

‘I see somebody I fancy, get all self-conscious, start drinking and embarrass myself,” she said gloomily. ‘Anyway, there is no way I’m traipsing over to mum’s tomorrow morning and bringing Ellie back in time,’ Jennie’s parents lives across the bay in Oakland, ‘so enjoy a free morning.’

_____ _

‘Thanks,’ he smiled gratefully. ‘I will. See you tonight.’

_____ _

‘Looking forward to it, I’m so excited. It will be great. 

_____ _

Closing the door behind Jennie, he almost tripped over a duffel bag on the floor. He absentmindedly pushed it away with his foot. Bin’s dance gear had been in the hallway for weeks now, a reminder how odd things became in the last month or so. Usually Bin would rather die than miss his weakly dance practice in the local studio. He loved dance, a passion they never shared, but Dongmin always encouraged, secretly thinking his boyfriend incredibly hot when dancing.

_____ _

The amateur dance group Bin was a part of was a bunch of enthusiast from all walks of life, united in their passion. Dongmin never missed any of their performances in local venues and over time became good friends with some of them, especially Nathan, a tall and lanky graphic designer, and Tim, a short and wiry Brit, a history teacher who joined at the same time as Bin, having moved to San Francisco from London.

_____ _

Tim was worried. Dongmin knew he called Bin couple of times, asking whether everything was ok, he even texted Dongmin to make sure Bin was alright.

_____ _

One of slightly unnerving Tim’s traits was that if Bin was intuitive, he was even more so. Fearing a get-together on some random night out, where Nathan and Tim would invite him as well and Tim would immediately spot something was bothering him, Dongmin kept Bin’s nosy friend at bay with non-committal answers about Bin being busy with pieces that needed finishing for the exhibition – which was technically true – and encouraged Bin to paint.

_____ _

_Better this way._

_____ _

After Jennie left, he put the cheese in the fridge and wandered aimlessly around. The lesson plan for next week on the coffee table reminded him that he really should finish preparing for Monday. With Aaron in his class, he needed to be always on the ball. He smiled and shook his head. That boy was so keen, so enthusiastic. 

_____ _

.........................

_’Sir, Mr Lee, Sir,’ Aaron waved his raised hand right under his nose, nearly poking his eyes out._

_____ _

_’Yes, Aaron?’_

_____ _

_‘Aren’t we going to pick the challenge for tomorrow?’_

_____ _

_’You are right, I have nearly forgotten. Thank you Aaron. Everyone, pick a category then – a music genre, an obscure instrument, a composer – off you go!’_

_____ _

_In the cacophony of voices that only a group of 13-yearl old boys and girls could create, a consensus was not reached. He smiled and motioned to the class to calm down._

_____ _

_‘Thank you. Today seems not to be the day when you agree straightaway. Aaron, since you reminded me, will you?’ He gestured for the boy to come forward and pick a piece of paper from a little bowl. Aaron handed it over._

_____ _

_’Thank you Aaron, you may sit down,’ he unfolded the little square, ‘today’s category is… a composer.’_

_____ _

_He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. ‘Get ready – today’ gentleman is an Italian Baroque composer with red hair - and he taught music in an orphanage.’ He smiled at their eager faces. ‘Good luck! The winners can pick a song each for our last lesson this month.’_

_____ _

...……………….

_____ _

Dongmin chuckled a little. Who knows who will get it right on Monday? 

_____ _

The lesson plan in his hands, he sat down at the piano again. Swivelling around on the stool, he found himself staring at a photograph of him and Bin above the piano, arms thrown around each other and laughing into the camera, Golden Gate Bridge behind them. 

_____ _

One warm Sunday afternoon a year ago, he, Bin and Jennie decided to play tourists for some bizarre reason and joined the milling crowds in the usual hotspots, giggling and joking all the way through. Jennie took hundreds of pictures of them, little Ellie and millions of other random things during the day. She had a good eye and they decided to have one of her shots enlarged and framed.

_____ _

One of her photos also served as inspiration for Bin’s one and only painting of himself being shown at the exhibition. A similar setting to the one hanging on their wall, both of them sitting on a bench in the same spot, looking at the bridge in front of them, their backs turned. It was a compromise after Bin point blank refused painting himself into any of the pictures at all.

_____ _

_’Why do I need to be in it? I don’t want to paint my own face. I’m not doing a bloody self-portrait, I won’t do it!’_

_____ _

_‘You don’t need to but it would be a nice touch for the showing. Why don’t you use one of Jennie’s snapshots she made, you know, during the day trip? It will have the bridge in it, somebody will like that, you’ll see.’_

_____ _

_They settled on the back-to shot as a nice hommage to San Francisco and a picture of them as a couple at the same time._

_____ _

_Bin started the painting with a huffy expression, grumbling something about tourist kitsch but ended up rather pleased with himself. ‘It looks… I don’t know, will it sound silly if I say happy?’_

_____ _

_He called it “A Sunny Day.”_

_____ _

Dongmin laid the lesson plan aside. There was no way he would be able to finish, not in this state of mind. Maybe he should go running? He pondered the idea for a bit, then dismissed it eventually. Running is a solitary pursuit and the company of his own head somehow didn’t seem an enticing prospect this morning. He needed other people.

_____ _

On an impulse, grabbing the keys and closing the door gently as not to wake Bin, he headed outside. 

_____ _

 


	3. The Reader

## 

The Reader

 

Outside, the sky above was cloudless, the light haze marring its beauty only by the thinnest of veils in the north, coming from the Bay. It was a beautiful morning, one of the rare gems in May when the fog lifts unusually early and rewards San Franciscans with a magnificent dome above their heads, painted a brilliant shade of blue.

Without thinking, Dongmin turned south towards WhiteSpace, his legs carrying him almost on autopilot. When they moved to North Beach three years ago, they purposefully chose the neighbourhood for its restaurants, bars and quirky shops, the galleries of Russian and Telegraph Hill within walking distance.

WhiteSpace had a reputation for sniffing out promising new artists; it had strong links with schools in the area, supporting budding local talent, and Dongmin liked the place. It had a lively vibe; the atmosphere was informal and the staff friendly. In the last week before Bin's exhibition Dongmin stopped by couple of times, before his gig, knowing Bin would probably be there straight from work for a quick catch up, tie loosened around his neck, the white shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, chatting to one of the employees. 

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t necessary for artists to get involved too much with the logistics of an exhibition but Bin liked to be part of it all, to know about the layout, to see how his ‘babies’ would be displayed, whether they would be taken care of.

Dongmin found it endearing and a little heartbreaking at the same time. He didn’t blame Bin for being anxious.

_If it was me, I would probably be having a mental breakdown right now._

He paused in front of the big glass door. The gallery had opened barely fifteen minutes ago but he was sure Alice would be there, overseeing the daily business and all preparations for the evening at the same time. Everything should be nearly ready. He braced himself for the sight of his own face jumping at him from almost every canvas. It still unnerved him a little. It's not that he minded sitting for Bin, he secretly loved that. During the sessions he could watch his beloved's focused face, his knitted eyebrows, one spare brush tucked behind his ear, the way he bit his bottom lip when things were not going right. No, it wasn't that. He didn't mind pictures of himself hanging all around their apartment either. It was them being shown in public that he couldn't quite get used to. Their souls laid bare for all to see, it still surprised him that no one sniggered or thought it disgusting for a young man to paint his male lover into almost every piece of art he created. 

Inhaling a little deeper, he swung the door open and listened to the sound of an old-fashioned bell above his head interrupting the calm of a big, sunlit room, plain white walls contrasting sharply with colours and shapes of the art surrounding him. 

Abstract and bold next to pale and dreamy, the pictures on the walls seemed to co-exist in harmony, despite their different styles, and so did the little sculptures arranged on low shelves and wide windowsills. Panels that housed some of the bigger paintings divided the room seemingly at random, a stark, almost photograph-like oil of a young woman staring out of the window dominating the room.

From behind one of the panels, Alice’s head appeared, a curious look on her face to see who the early visitor was. Seeing Dongmin, she smiled widely.

'Long time no see, beautiful.’

He smiled back. He liked Alice, one of the gallery curators, a 40-something petite brunette with an almost uncanny ability for spotting new talent and love for deadpan jokes. She was the one who agreed to start showing some of Bin’s work after seeing a selection of his paintings Dongmin had brought to the gallery. Over time she became more than just Bin's business contact, she turned into one of their first friends in the new neighbourhood.

‘Let me put this somewhere safe,’ Alice gestured at a small wooden statue in her hand. She set it carefully on a shelf near the door and slid a discreet price tag into a small holder she placed next to it. Having glanced over the arrangement and satisfied with the result, she turned to Dongmin.

‘Come here,’ she enveloped him in a hug. ‘I thought you forgot we existed.’

Dongmin kissed her cheek. 'I hate to say it but I’ve been here twice this week. It's you who is always busy somewhere else. How are you, is everything going alright?'

She grinned. 'You know how it is, business never sleeps. But everything is looking good for tonight, we are running on time - more or less. How is our budding artist?'

'Still asleep. He must have been painting all night.'

'Good,' she deadpanned. 'We’ll need more of his work, after the showing he'll be the next hot new thing this season, just wait and see.'

He laughed and felt his mood rising like a feather.

Alice gripped his elbow, guiding him towards a wide arch leading into the next room.

'I know you are more than familiar with every single picture that was selected for this evening,' she gave him a little smirk, 'but everything is being gradually hung up and it’s almost finished. Let me show you around.'

She pushed away a length of velvet rope. ‘We’ve closed off the two rooms already, as you can see, and everything is nearly ready for tonight.’

He followed her into a room very much like the one they had left, a twin of the same layout. The same bright light was streaming in through the big front windows illuminating the walls painted white, but that was where the similarities ended. Where there were colours next door, jumbled and loud, filling the air, Dongmin now felt like he entered an oasis. The walls and partitions were covered with Bin’s black and white sketches and the effect was soothing, slightly surreal, making the air almost ripple with a very different kind of energy.

Delicate, expansive, big or small, the pictures, pieces of Bin’s soul, surrounded him like magic, making his head spin a little. 

He knew them all. 

Alice smiled, as if she knew he needed a moment.

'We thought it would be a good idea to put all sketches together, to let people start with them. To warm up the audience, for want of a better word, to get them excited.’

She let Dongmin’s eye wonder around, soaking up the atmosphere.

‘They are absolutely beautiful but we thought they might get a little thwarted if put together with the oils, simply because of their size.'

He kept looking around, almost forgetting Alice was there. He loved Bin’s sketches the most and the effect of seeing so many in one space was powerful. There was a certain Spartan quality to them which he found very appealing, the way he was able to capture Dongmin's face or shape of his shoulders with just a couple of strokes of charcoal or a pencil.

The charcoal sketch in the centre was slightly bigger that the others, the paper looked a little worse for wear and the picture had no signature, only a date scribbled in the bottom right corner. It was him, sitting cross-legged on the floor and reading. Alice followed his gaze.

‘Judging by the date, this was one of Binnie’s first sketches of you. I’m glad he learned to take care of his artwork since then. Look at the state the paper is in, the corner is bent. If it wasn’t so brilliant, I wouldn’t be exhibiting it at all but it has something I really love.’

‘It’s not for sale anyway,’ Dongmin smiled soothingly. The sketch was marked with a little red NFS sticker in the corner. ‘This one is ours, we don’t mind.’

‘Still, it’s a shame,’ Alice sounded a little petulant. Dongmin knew she was fiercely protective when it came to art and treated every piece as her beloved child.

‘Alice,’ he gave a half–exasperated laugh, ‘it was Bin’s very first sketch of me, he had no idea anybody would ever see it. Give him a break, darling. Anyway, if you want to give somebody a piece of your mind about vandalizing art, it should be me. It was me who almost ripped it. Not on purpose, of course,’ he added quickly, seeing her horrified gaze, ‘I just snatched it from him. He was sketching me without my consent,’ he added, mock indignation in his voice.

He paused in front the picture, looking at the date again and smiled tenderly. 

4th February. 

He could almost feel the pale sunshine on his face, the cold air of a winter day back in Busan, more than seven years ago.

 

………………..

 

_The unassuming building stood on a corner of a busy but pleasant street, now sunlit and looking cheerful, even if the freezing air was numbing their fingers and pinching their cheeks red as they gazed upwards, at a pair of windows on the top floor._

_‘What do you think? I really liked it,’ Bin looked at him, excitement clear in his voice. ‘Me too,’ Dongmin smiled, feeling light. ‘The piano would fit easily into the living room.’_

_‘You and your piano,’ Bin pulled his ear gently, the love in his voice so tangible, Dongmin felt butterflies in his stomach._

_‘You and your easel,’ he retorted, grinning. ‘You know, you would be able to fit all your stuff in the main bedroom. That could be your room.’_

_Bin paused._

_‘I thought we wouldn’t do that,’ he said slowly, frowning a little. ‘Your room, my room and all that.’_

_‘Well, no, of course we won’t,’ Dongmin felt himself turning pink. ‘But we sort of need to make it look like that, you understand that, don’t you?’_

_For a moment they both stood still, looking into each other’s eyes, all excitement gone, the old sickening feeling of secrecy back again._

_‘Binnie,’ Dongmin reached for Bin’s hand, squeezed his fingers gently, then let go quickly, aware of too many pairs of eyes around them. ‘It’s only for when our parents come, it’s not gonna be real, ok?’_

_‘Ok,’ Bin sounded huffy and Dongmin hid a smile._

_‘Great. I could have the small room then, the study or whatever that is, and the main bedroom would be yours. Stop, just hear me out,’ he interrupted Bin who was already opening his mouth to protest. ‘It makes perfect sense. You need the space for your easel and all the art supplies. The only thing I need is the piano and that would be in the living room. I don't care where my socks live.’_

_Bin relented. ‘Fine. But I'm not calling it my room,’ he said with a pout, ‘because it's not.’_

_He smiled at Bin’s cute face and felt the excitement creeping back._

_‘Is it not going to be too far from your family?’ Bin’s voice grew heavy with worry. ‘Mine would be fairly close but yours would be across the whole city. Would that be ok?’_

_‘No, that’s perfect, actually. I don’t want my Mum dropping by every other day.’_

_‘She will come anyway, you know how she loves you. God, I hope she’ll still bring food. I love her kimchi stew.’ Bin’s smile grew dreamy. Staying increasingly more often at Dongmin’s place for the last couple of months, he was a frequent beneficiary of all homemade delicacies Dongmin regularly brought back from his visits home or his mum dropped off at his place when passing by._

_Dongmin felt a pang of guilt. Mum and him had always been close; he now has a secret he can’t share with her, something that would horrify her, should she find out. She liked Bin, thought him well mannered and was in awe with the way he transformed their restaurant. She approved of him as Dongmin’s future flatmate but he knew all this would not matter one tiny bit if she found out the true nature of their relationship._

_‘Oh, will you just shut up about the food,’ he snapped irritably, the unease suddenly making him angry. ‘The moment she discovers that I kiss you every night, rather than a random pretty girl, there will be no more kimchi stew for you. Or me, for that matter. So just pray she will not drop by every day, ok?’_

__

_Bin sobered up. Ignoring the passers-by, he wrapped his arms around Dongmin and buried his face in the crook of his neck._

__

_‘I’m sorry.’ He lifted his head, suddenly serious, ‘Look, we don’t need to do this if you’re not sure.’_

__

_‘I am sure. I love my Mum but I love you more. I want to be with you every day.’ The anger disappeared, replaced by tenderness so fragile, he felt his eyes welling up._

__

_He watched Bin’s face spread in a smile he loved so much, ‘Let’s do it then. Let’s go and quickly sign the papers before someone else snaps up the place before us.’_

__

__

………………

__

__  


__

_Back in his tiny apartment that night, sitting on the floor with sheets of paper all around him, revising for an upcoming exam he was suddenly aware of Bin’s eyes on him. He lifted his head. Bin, sitting on the floor, the big sketching pad on his lap, was looking at him with intense concentration._

__

_‘What are you doing?’_

_‘Nothing.’_

_He sprung up and grabbed Bin’s pad._

_‘Oh, please, don’t. It’s just… It’s nothing,’ he could hear the embarrassment in Bin’s voice._

_It was a sketch of him in charcoal. He was stunned. He never thought the essence of somebody can be captured with such simple, elegant, almost calligraphy-like strokes; yet it was clearly him, sitting cross-legged on the floor, hair falling onto his forehead, lips half-parted, looking at a sheet of paper in his hand._

_He lifted his eyes. Bin was blushing, almost on the verge of tears from self-consciousness._

_‘I couldn’t help it. You looked so beautiful.’_

_‘This is amazing. I knew you were good but this is so… I don’t even know how to describe it,’ he smiled. He gently touched the paper._

_Bin’s cheeks were glowing red, ‘I wanted to draw you for so long, you don’t mind, do you?’_

_‘No, why should I? It’s beautiful. You are so goddamn talented it hurts.’_

_Bin took the sketch from his hands and scribbled a date in the corner._

_‘This way we’ll remember.’_

_They moved in four weeks later._

 

..…………………

 

_The doorbell rang._

_‘They are here!’_

_Bin tripped over the last couple of removal boxes still stacked in the hallway, nearly breaking his neck, and yanked the door open._

_The mountain of snacks facing him was nearly as tall as Jinjin._

_‘Hyung, we are cooking for you! What’s this about?’_

_Jinjin smirked, manoeuvring carefully past him, his arms full, ‘This is a housewarming party, Binnie, it needs to be celebrated in style. We need junk food! Sorry, Dongmin,’ he shouted in the general direction of the kitchen, ‘I love your cooking, I taught you everything you know after all, but it’s very wholesome and very healthy. I think, as the night progresses, we will need some of these.’_

_Dongmin stuck his head out of the kitchen door, cheeks flushed from the heat, ‘I have no idea why I‘m even bothering to cook for you, you ungrateful bunch,’ his eyes were laughing._

_Jinjin got shoved from behind. ‘Moving along, please, my arms are falling off!’ MJ staggered in, straining to hold a sizeable bag full of alcohol._

_‘MJ-hyung, are you planning to drink it all yourself?’ Dongmin was eyeing the bulging bag and couldn’t supress a laugh. MJ’s inability to hold even a tiniest amount of drink was legendary._

_‘Respect your elders and don’t be rude! This is a special occasion; it’s the first night in your new place! I want to see you kids drunk tonight.’_

_‘Do we have any say in the matter, boss?’ Bin took the bag from MJ and headed for the kitchen._

_‘No, I don’t think you do, actually.’ Rocky appeared in the doorway with more food and alcohol, 'MJ-hyung seems awfully determined tonight.’_

_Bin deposited the drinks on the kitchen table and peered over Dongmin’s shoulder, ‘Yum, so many delicious things.’_

_‘Could you start on the drinks? This should be ready in a minute,’ Dongmin didn’t lift his eyes from the kimchi stew he was stirring. He was so excited about tonight, everything kept falling from his hands, he really needed to concentrate._

 _‘Let me just have a little taste first....’ Bin leaned closer and from behind surveyed the sizzling pans and bubbling pots, wrapping his arms around Dongmin’s waist._

_Dongmin let out an exasperated laugh, ‘Binnie, can’t you wait until it’s ready? I know kimchi stew is your favourite, that’s why I’m making it, but I swear one day you will… ‘ He was stopped in his tracks as Bin bit his shoulder through the T-shirt._

_‘What are you doing?’ he whispered urgently, half-laughing, trying to extricate himself but his boyfriend didn’t budge, holding him firmly against his chest._

_‘I’m tasting my favourite,’ Bin started pulling the T-shirt off Dongmin’s shoulder with his teeth._

_‘Oi, you two!’ Jinjin’s booming voice made them both jump. ‘Get a room!’_

_Dongmin snorted. The irony was not lost on him. Bin let go of the T-shirt between his teeth and grinned, ‘We’ve got a room, hyung. It’s just that YOU are in it.’_

_Dongmin could hear Sanha and Rocky sniggering in the background._

_‘Behave yourselves,’ MJ quipped, piling the snacks on the coffee table in the living room, ‘There are children present.’_

_‘Hey, I’m not a child!’ Sanha protested indignantly. ‘I am a college student now!’_

_‘You are still officially not allowed to drink, so be glad that you are here at all,’ Jinjin retorted drily, admiring the assortment of junk food that MJ created on the table. ‘By the way, do your roommates know you’re not gonna sleep at the dorm tonight?’_

_‘Stop babying me, I’ve told you I’m not a child!’ Sanha threw a packet of crisps at Jinjin who expertly grabbed it mid-air it and gently placed it back onto the pile._

_‘I don’t give a toss about you, you idiot,’ he said softly, ‘I’m just covering our backs by making sure you’ll sleep here tonight. No need for you to wander around the town in the night intoxicated, getting picked up by the cops, then telling them what a bad influence we all are. And if I don’t ask you now, in couple of hours I might not remember,’ he added with a conspiratory grin._

_‘You read too many crime thrillers, hyung. But yah, they know,’ Sanha admitted grudgingly. ‘Happy now?’_

_’Very much. Now, if you all excuse me, seeing that our two lovebirds are too busy biting bits off each other, I need to go and organise myself a drink.’_

_Dongmin felt his cheeks grow hot. At last he managed to free himself and gave Bin a shove, ‘Drinks, now.’_

_Finally, they all sat down around the low coffee table, bowls and plates piled with food, drinks in their hands._

_’Toast! Time for a toast!’ announced Jinjin theatrically, rising his hand. He cleared his throat. ‘You two, may this happy day in your new place be followed by a great many more, even happier ones.’_

_Dongmin had to blink several times. He felt Bin’s hand squeezing his fingers. He glanced at him and smiled._

_‘Jeez, you sound like a dad at a wedding.’ MJ rolled his eyes. ‘Let me rephrase. And nights, kids, may this one be followed by many more.’ He giggled, raising his glass, already half-empty. ‘Make the most of the last year at uni, because when I headhunt my favourite part-timer to work for me full time next year,’ he nudged Bin into his ribs, ‘he will be coming home only to sleep. And when I say sleep, I mean just that – sleep. No more action in the bedroom, Min, he will be too exhausted.’_

_Dongmin saw Bin blushing furiously._

_‘There is more to life than designing pretty things for people to buy them, hyung,’ Bin mumbled, squeezing Dongmin’s fingers._

_‘Not in my universe, my boy. So fuck as much as you can now, ok? You won’t have that much time, nor the energy next year,’ MJ wiggled his eyebrows in the most suggestive way and Dongmin felt his ears growing hot._

_‘Great,” deadpanned Rocky, ‘And that’s after half a glass of wine, MJ-hyung. Could you at least not call it that? The sex? You’re making it into something… gross, even if it’s not._ ’

 _’Respect, you pre-schooler!’ roared MJ. ‘And since when are you so sensitive about fucking - oh, sorry, do I need to say lovemaking? What do you know about it at all?_ ’

_’Actually, he might know a great deal since last week,’ winked Sanha._

_It was Rocky’s turn to blush now. Exclamations from all sides were quickly followed by questions, demanding more information from Sanha._

_’He had a date. Like a DATE date, if you get me,’ Sanha winked, almost jumping up and down from excitement._

_’Rocky, you sneaky bastard! How come you didn’t tell anybody?’ Jinjin gave him a well-aimed shove in the ribs._

_’Because you all would make a massive deal out of it,’ Rocky said flatly. ‘As you are right now. Thank you, Sanha,’ he added ironically, his eyes piercing the maknae who was giggling and trying to lean as far as possible from him in order avoid any possible attempts to shut him up._

_’Sanha, details please!’ MJ’s voice didn’t leave anybody in doubt about his intention to find out absolutely everything, down to a minute detail._

__

_’I bumped into him on campus last Friday morning. He was running because he was late,’ Sanha winked again, clearly relishing the attention._

__

__

_’Oh my god, and here I was expecting some juicy details,’ huffed Jinjin dismissively. ‘Being late doesn’t mean anything.’_

__

_’Being late for Mr Shin’s class does,’ Sanha’s voice was heavy with emphasis._ _Mr Shin was Rocky’s contemporary dance teacher. He was considered a god amongst dance majors and Rocky would never miss his class. Every Friday morning he was one of the first students in the studio and every Friday night he bore the hell out of everybody by recounting everything Mr Shin had done that morning._

_’Oooh, now we are getting somewhere,’ MJ grinned eagerly. ‘Carry on, my child.’_

__

_’Please, stop,’ Rocky groaned and tried to punch Sanha. Bin swiftly grabbed him and held him in a headlock, laughing, while Sanha squealed and jumped up. From a safe distance, he added in a fake, exaggerated whisper, ‘He was ten minutes late and…,’ he paused for dramatic effect, ‘he was wearing clothes from the day before!’_

__

_The whoops and cheers were deafening._

_’Aaargh, let me go!’ Rocky struggled against Bin’s iron grip._

_’We want a name first,’ Bin giggled, face red from the exertion._

_’Let me go, you ass!’ Rocky panted, straining to free himself. He had a dancer’s body, lean and muscular, but it was not an even match._

_’Name,’ Jinjin leaned over and whispered in Rocky’s ear. ‘We want a name.’_

_’Never,’ Rocky stopped struggling but his face indicated he wouldn’t budge._

_’Ok, it’s tickle time!’ squealed MJ and jumped up, wriggling fingers at the ready._

_’Fine, fine! It’s Songyi! You all satisfied?’ The moment Bin relaxed his grip, Rocky shot up and plopped himself on the floor in the far corner of the room, arms crossed, huffily eyeing the rest of them._

_Sanha gasped, ‘Oh my God, Rocky, wow! Songyi! She is amazing! And she is so pretty!’_

_Bin sunk down to the floor, panting heavily. ‘Oh no, bro. Songyi is not pretty, she is hot! How did you get this lucky? Lucky Rocky,’ he giggled at his own words._

_Jinjin whistled, ‘Careful, Dongmin, Binnie is straying into a dangerous territory. He thinks a girl is hot.’_

_'Shut up!’ Bin gave JInjin a deadly glare. ‘I’m simply stating a fact.’_

_He shuffled over to Dongmin and draped himself over him, nuzzling his neck. ‘You are thousand times hotter than her,’ he whispered, his breath sending shivers down Dongmin’s spine._

_’Oi, you two, focus! Who is Songyi? Come on! Anybody help me out here?’ MJ looked bewildered._

_‘She is in our dance group,’ supplied Sanha helpfully, seeing that a reply from Bin would not be coming any time soon. ‘The best dancer there, apart from Rocky.’_

_’How come I never heard her name on campus? Rocky, you never mentioned her.’ Dongmin tried to give his voice a semblance of normal, despite almost gasping as Bin kept tracing his collarbone with his lips._

_‘She is a chemistry major, that’s why you wouldn’t see here around here,’ huffed Rocky, trying very hard to appear offish but the desire to talk about his love was evident from every syllable._

_’Wow, a scientist! Has she been doing, you know, some research on YOU?’ MJ’s leer didn’t leave anybody in doubt about the kind of research he head in mind._

_’Bro! Don’t be disgusting!’_

_’Do you find scientific research disgusting? MJ blinked, eyes wide with fake innocence. I think it’s hot!’ He chuckled cheekily, enjoying the sight of Rocky’s blushing face._

_’So, tell us about her,’ Jinjin came to the rescue, giving MJ a dirty look._

_Rocky’s face softened, ‘She is so great. The way she moves when she dances, it’s incredible. And she is clever and funny...’_

_’Oh my, our Rocky is in luuuurve…’ MJ lifted his wine glass, ‘and we need to drink to that! Come on lovebirds, bring more soju for everyone!’ he tossed a packet of crisps over to where Dongmin and Bin were sitting, their limbs intertwined, not taking any notice of what was happening around._ _They both jumped up guiltily, slightly out of breath, their faces flushed._

_’You two are some hosts! We need more drinks to celebrate Rocky’s loss of virginity-‘_

_‘Hyung!’ Rocky sounded as if being tortured but Jinjin paid him no attention._

_’Such an important moment and you are making out! Shoo! Get more drinks!’_

_Dongmin jumped up obediently and headed for the kitchen, Bin following behind._ _’Do you think we have enough of everything?’ His face was illuminated by the light from the fridge as he peered inside, ‘MJ seems to be in an awful hurry to get drunk.’_

_Bin grabbed Dongmin’s wrist and pulled him close. ‘Who cares about the drinks,’ his voice sounded hoarse, the silence in the kitchen colouring his words with something that made Dongmin’s breath quicken and his face heat up._

_He ducked his head, smiling, and slid both hands under Bin’s t-shirt. It felt daring, his palms pressing into the hard muscles on his back, fingers tasting the warmth of Bin’s skin._ _Was it the alcohol that was making him feel so dizzy, so reckless, or was it the excess of happiness? He didn’t really care._

_In couple of hours it will be just him and Bin, behind a closed door, alone, and the thought made his head spin._

_For all the mockery they had endured from everybody about their love life, their friends were surprisingly wide off target. They haven’t done much beyond kissing and Dongmin subconsciously refused to analyse why. Not for the lack of attraction or time they spent together, that much was clear. For the last few months they were barely apart. When in Bin’s room at the dorm, Ten, his roommate, teased them mercilessly, to the point where Bin was more or less living at Dongmin’s. Nobody teased them there but privacy was hard to come by._

_The building where Dongmin lived resembled dorms, being close to the Faculty of Music at Busan National University, and full of students. Most of them were music or art majors; they knew each other well and hardly an hour passed by at any point during any evening without a friend barging into Dongmin’s room, borrowing textbooks, coffee, money or begging to be allowed a last minute practice on his piano, one of the few in the building. With a constant stream of people in and out of his room, Bin and Dongmin usually settled for listening to music together, cuddling and stealing kisses in those precious moments when the door stayed shut._

_Deep inside Dongmin knew all of this was a lame excuse, of course, nothing more. The truth was, he was scared. Not because he never had sex before. During his first year he had dated Yuri, a music major in the year above him, for three months, after she had asked him out. Best to blend in had been his motto. The sex, when it happened, had been nice enough but elicited no butterflies on his part, and certainly no fireworks._

_He knew with Bin it would be different. Sex without love is a weapon, meaningless and forgettable, yet with enough power to inflict pain, to maim. Sex and love together lay the soul bare, strip it all the way to the bone, until everything that rings false has been peeled off. Dongmin had been terrified of what it would do to him. After the first night with Bin, when absolutely nothing and yet everything happened, looking into his eyes in the morning, he had felt more vulnerable than he had ever felt with Yuri, naked from top to toe in her little room on campus._

_The morning after their first kiss, he panicked. He fled from his own apartment, leaving confused and hurt Bin sitting on the sofa where they had fallen asleep like puppies the night before. He wandered the streets, getting nearly run over by a bus, not seeing anything, the feeling of disgust with himself and deep thrill battling for supremacy in the pit of his stomach. He knew then, with dead certainty, what he craved and the thought scared him. There would be no going back if this carried on. Ok, no more of this, he argued with himself, ever. No more. Will never happen again._

 _Now, eight months later, the fear and disgust were gone. A boy with cat-like eyes took care of it, chipping away at them gently, bit by bit, with his long, patient fingers, until they disappeared from his stomach, from his heart. Now, eight months later, standing in their tiny kitchen smelling of kimchi stew, with his hands full of Bin, he could only feel love._

_’I can’t wait for us to be alone here. Not just tonight, every day,’ he whispered into Bin’s hair, then pulled away and smiled at his boyfriend’s beautiful face, hands sliding onto his chest that was now rising faster with every stroke of his fingers._

_Bin’s eyes, huge and dark, did not leave his face, his body gone completely still but for the heartbeat, racing wildly under his palms._

_Dongmin felt his heart bursting from happiness as he gazed dreamily into Bin’s eyes when, without warning, his back got pressed against the wall, Bin’s tongue was in his mouth, his hands everywhere, and it was so different from the tender and sweet kisses they had shared before, so hot, so intoxicating, that Dongmin’s knees were buckling underneath him._

_He had no idea who this stranger was, this Bin fuelled by desire, his whole weight pressed against him, hip bones, and more, digging into his body, but today Dongmin wanted to find out._

_He twisted his fingers in Bin’s hair and sighed into his kiss. Everything around disappeared, everything but Bin, the taste of him in his mouth, the feel of him heavy and hungry against his body._

_’Yah! Can’t you wait until people leave?’ Jinjin appeared in the doorway, empty soju bottles in his hands._

_’Then leave,’ mumbled Bin, not turning his head, barely separating their lips._

_The spell broken, Dongmin let out a shaky laugh and opened his eyes, “Sorry, Jinjin-hyung, we’ll be right there.’ He cupped Bin’s cheek gently, ‘Come on, Binnie, we have guests.’_

_Bin was breathing through his nose, his stare not moving one inch. He took Dongmin’s hand and pressed the palm against his mouth. ‘Not going,’ his voice was muffled, ‘I want to…’_

_’Aaaaarhg! Enough! Don’t want to hear that!’ Jinjin’s scream drowned out the rest._

_A beer bottle was showed under Bin’s nose. ‘Seriously, bro, keep your dick in your pants for now and drink. We came here to have a party, not to watch you two make out,’ he laughed into Bin’s huffy face. ‘You know what? I’m gonna make you so drunk tonight that you will not be able to do ANYTHING after we leave. Sorry for ruining your hopes for a romantic evening,’ he smirked at horribly embarrassed Dongmin, ‘this is now a mission. Are you in, Binnie? The bet is on.’ The challenge was unmistakable in his voice._

_’If you think I can’t hold my drink, hyung…,’ Bin puffed his chest and took a swig from the bottle._

_That’s exactly what I think,’ Jinjin grin was as bright as the hottest summer day._

_’Oh my God, this night will end badly,’ groaned Dongmin and followed them back into the living room._

………….………

_’Get up Sanha, bedtime.’_

_The maknae clearly had enough. He sat sprawled on the sofa, a goofy grin on his face, eyes half-closed. It was three o’clock in the morning. Rocky and MJ just left, sharing a taxi, the younger taking care of his older friend who went from pleasantly drunk to wasted within the last half an hour before his departure. Sanha on the sofa wasn’t looking much better._

_Dongmin patted him on the shoulder, ‘Come, you will sleep in the little room.’_

_’But ... I, isn't that your room? Where are you going to sleep?’ Sanha peered at Dongmin, the effort to keep his gazed focus painfully obvious._

_’Oh, you soft noodle,’ Jinjin stretched languidly, yawned, then leaned over to Sanha and ruffled his hair. ‘Why on Earth would Dongmin sleep there when in the other room he has a massive double bed with Bin in it? I know which one I would choose,’ he winked._

_’Hyung!’ Bin cried. Dongmin jumped up, pretending he didn't hear the innuendo, and helped Sanha to get off the sofa._

_’Oh. OK.’ Sanha blinked and let himself to be led to bed without protest, swaying only slightly._

_When Dongmin returned, Jinjin was picking up stray glasses and gathering empty plates._

_‘Leave it. Come and have a drink,’ Dongmin sat down on the sofa and took a swig of his beer._

_’Bro,’ Jinjin paused and gave him a slow, patient look, as if talking to a toddler, ‘I think the party is over. Look at this one,’ he eyed Bin who, having sat contentedly on the floor for the last half an hour, beer in his hand and laughing at Jinjin's jokes, now crawled over, put his head in Dongmin's lap and closed his eyes._

_’Take him to bed, for goodness’ sake. Don't expect any action though, it looks like my mission tonight was successful.’ He cackled to himself._

_’Hyung!’ Dongmin flushed deep crimson._

_’Oh, shut up, will you? Don't expect me to believe you are still only holding hands at this point, not after watching you both tonight.’_

_If Dongmin could, he would have blushed even more. No deeper shades of red available, he simply stared at Bin, peacefully snoring in his lap._

_’Hello!’ Jinjin gave him a little shove. ‘Don't fall asleep here, the sofa is mine tonight. Off you go!’_

_Dongmin looked up, his eyes red._

_’I'm so happy,’ he whispered. ‘I'm so happy it scares me. Something's bound to go wrong soon, I know it. What if he gets tired of me, now that we'll be together all the time, what if he stops loving me, what if...’_

_‘Dongmin, what the hell? You must be way more drunk than I thought, bro. Stop the crap, that's just the booze talking. If Bin were able to - which he is not, fortunately - he would probably be kissing every single floorboard right now, just because you stepped on them once. The boy is so much in love it's embarrassing to watch. So please,’ Jinjin looked at him intently, ‘quit blubbering, take the Sleeping Beauty here and go to bed!’_

_This time Dongmin obeyed without further ado. He heaved up semi-conscious Bin and they both disappeared behind the bedroom door. As they were sinking into the pillows, arms around each other and half asleep already, Dongmin thought life couldn't be more perfect._

 


	4. Anger

 

## 

Anger

‘Hey, come back!’ Alice’s laughing voice came to him from the distance. ‘You were miles away.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he smiled apologetically, ‘I was time travelling. Too many memories around me here. All these sketches were made back in Busan, it’s like being transported back in time.’

He shook his head to get rid of the faraway thoughts. ‘Enough with dreaming; I’m ready.’

‘Shall we carry on?’ Alice pointed towards the main room but the phone in her hand started ringing. She looked at the caller’s ID, ‘Oh. Do you mind if I take this? Sorry.’

’No, it’s ok,’ he gestured for her to go ahead. Holding the phone to her ear, Alice mouthed a silent thank you and retreated into a corner.

Dongmin turned around to give her some privacy. 

A cluster of sketches mounted on the wall between the windows caught his attention. They stood out a little because he, for once, wasn't the only object of Bin's drawings in them. The series was named simply “Hands”. Clasped together, reposing calmly, flung in dramatic gestures; Bin had gone through a phase when he drew them all. Young and dimpled, old and wrinkly, he had spent several months bothering all family members and friends to model for him.

The pencil sketch in the right bottom corner made Dongmin shiver slightly. His own hands, clenched fists pressed against his forehead, the skin on the knuckles so taut it was almost white. 

“Anger.”

Dongmin couldn’t help it; he didn’t like this one. It was beautifully executed but the pose always reminded him of an encounter he would rather forget.

………………………….

_‘Hey, pretty boy!’_

_He froze._

_He would recognise the voice anywhere._

_Keeping his face composed, he turned slowly._

_The young man in front of him was clad in expensive designer clothes, his hair perfectly styled, accessories flashy. Flanking him on both sides were his two sidekicks who tried really hard to imitate their leader’s style but didn't quite succeed. Their sneers suggested this wouldn't be a warm, friendly encounter._

_Dongmin sighed inwardly._

_’Hey Wonchul.’ Despite his smooth expression, there was no real enthusiasm in his voice._

_At uni, there had been no love lost between Wonchul, the self-proclaimed campus king, always surrounded by a gang of confident, privileged young men from the upper echelons of Busan society, and Dongmin, the shy geek, whose prodigal piano performances and flawless looks irritated the older boy, used to be the best at everything he touched._

_Dongmin did what he could to keep out of his way and breathed a sigh of relief when Wonchul graduated. One year of peace ahead of him. Now it seemed it was campus all over again._

_’Welcome to the neighbourhood. I've heard you’ve just moved to the area.’ Wonchul’s voice was so smooth it almost sounded sincere._

_’Yes, I have.’_

_’We are practically neighbours then, I live just around corner.’_

_’That's great.’ Dongmin kept his tone neutral. He wasn’t fooled by the seemingly friendly words._

_‘Well, I hope you'll like it here.’ Wonchul’s friends sniggered and exchanged glances, clearly finding the whole exchange highly amusing, but Wonchul pierced them with a swift icy stare and turned his gaze back to Dongmin, eyebrows raised in a mockery of a friendly smile._

_‘Thank you,’ Dongmin did his best to stay polite._

_‘Well, as I said, I hope you settle well here; it’s a nice neighbourhood. Although, having said that,’ Wonchul paused and looked up, a thoughtful look cast somewhere over Dongmin’s shoulder, the dramatic pause creating the desired sense of suspense, ‘I'm not sure you'll fit in after all.’_

_Dongmin held his gaze, keeping his face expressionless. Unable to see quite yet where this was going, he was not giving the three in front of him the satisfaction of showing any emotions._

_Wonchul came closer, his bodyguards following behind._

_‘You know why I think you won't fit in around here?’_

_‘No, I don’t,’ Dongmin said evenly._

_‘Because this is a respectable area. We don’t want people like you around here. You see, I've heard rumours, pretty boy,’ Wonchul leaned so close, Dongmin could smell his expensive cologne._

_‘I've heard you don't live alone. I’ve heard you have a flat mate.’_

_He could feel his stomach twist. I know where this is going, he thought helplessly._

_‘I’ve heard your share a lot more than the flat. I’ve heard you let him into your pants.’_

_Dongmin clenched his teeth and exhaled slowly, deliberately, through his nose, ‘I don’t think my private life is any of your business.’_

_‘Oh, of course not. I’m just curious. This is such a close-knit community, we always want to know as much as we can about our new neighbours.’ His falsely sweet tone made Dongmin feel sick._

_‘So tell me, pretty boy,’ Wonchul was now openly sneering in his face, “how does it feel when your sexy new boyfriend is fucking you? I haven’t seen him around yet but apparently he is rather hot. You are a lucky bastard. I just hope his dick is not too, you know… big for your pretty little ass.’ All three of them were openly laughing now._

_Dongmin closed his eyes for a moment. Calm, you can do this. You don't want to kill this idiot. He clenched his fists. I mustn’t hit him, I might break his bloody nose._

_‘Are we upsetting you, flower? So sorry, did we get it wrong? Maybe it’s the other way round. See, I somehow assumed that… but I could be wrong, couldn’t I?’ Wonchul’s face was leering, and Dongmin felt the explosion inside him getting dangerously close. The colour of his anger was turning blood red._

_‘Just leave, ok?’ he turned and started walking away._

_Wonchul, momentarily shocked by the lack of response, lost precious seconds. In a slightly undignified manner he caught up with Dongmin and blocked his way._

_‘Come on pretty boy, just tell us, who's the top?’_

_That did it._

_The redness spilled over his brain as he swung his right arm. A perfectly executed right hook connected with Wonchul’s jaw and sent him flying into the dustbins behind. The blood from his split lip sprayed the white Gucci t-shirt._

_One of the sidekicks tried to grab him but Dongmin swiftly punched him in the stomach with his left fist. The boy doubled over and sank to his knees. His other friend backpedalled to safety, the shock clear in his eyes._

_Dongmin crouched down and stared into Wonchul’s face. There was no swagger left in the older boy’s eyes, only terror._

_He grabbed Wonchul by the collar, yanked him up and slammed him against one of the bins, hard._

_Not letting go of his jacket, he pulled him close, ‘If you ever speak to me like this, if you ever insult me or my friends, I swear I will kill you next time,’ he whispered softly in his ear._

_He released his collar, turned and left. He heard Wonchul sinking to the ground like a sack of potatoes._

_Well, all the hours in the gym came in handy today, he thought, filled with euphoria. My boxing coach would be proud of his former pupil. Pretty boy, my ass._

_Neither Wonchul nor his entourage had any idea that under the unassuming white T-shirts and faded hoodies Dongmin always wore on campus there were abs and biceps hardened by years of swimming, running, gym sessions, captaining the school basketball team through high school, and a stint at boxing. Sport, alongside music, had always been his passion. He loved the rush of adrenalin, the sense of victory when he pushed his body beyond its limits. With Bin his exercise regime increased even more, this time because they discovered it was love they both shared. The only thing he gave up was boxing. After coming home with a split lip or a black eye couple of times, Bin, almost on his knees, begged him to stop._

_As he turned the corner, the brief feeling of euphoria ebbed away._

_My God, what have I done?_

_Wonchul had been the main reason why, for two years, he used to spend three nights a week in the gym, pummelling the punch bag, imagining the arrogant face in front of him, but doing it for real felt very different._

_I knew he had no chance against me and I did it anyway, he thought horrified. And worse, for a moment he enjoyed it, the fear in Wonchul’s eyes, the blood, his whimpering as he held him pressed against the dustbin._

_Am I the same bully as him now?_

_He started to shake and wrapped his arms around himself._

_What have I done?_

_The echo of his own footsteps was drumming in his ears as he ran home. ___

_Letting himself in, he saw Bin's backpack on the floor. Smell of cooking rice was permeating the air, familiar and comforting._

_His legs were shaking so badly, he had to lean against the wall. The image of Wonchul, mouth bleeding and eyes terrified, was dancing in front of his eyes. Dongmin slid down to the floor and tried to get his breathing under control._

_‘Hey, beautiful,’ Bin emerged from the kitchen and his expression changed immediately._

_‘What happened?’_

____

_There was a lump in his throat and no words came out._

_‘What's wrong, are you ok?’_

____

_He shook his head mutely._

____

_Bin crouched down and took his hands. His eyes widened as he took in Dongmin's knuckles._

____

_‘Min, what’s going on?’_

____

_‘I got into a fight,’ his voice sounded distant, distorted, as if speaking underwater._

____

_‘What?’ Dongmin could tell Bin was trying to repress the panic in his voice but it was there, swelling. ‘Are you hurt?’_

_‘No, I'm ok.’_

_‘But your hand, it's bleeding.’_

____

_‘It's just bruised,’ he was forcing himself to sound calm, to keep his voice steady. With every fibre of his being he willed himself to radiate the quiet, to have it reach Bin._

____

_He must have succeeded because Bin exhaled a little and got to his feet._

____

_‘Let me get something cold, then you tell me what happened, ok?’ He disappeared in the kitchen, emerging in a minute with a wet tea towel._

____

_’Let me,’ he gently took Dongmin's wrist and wrapped the cold towel around his hand._

____

_Suddenly his eyes narrowed, ‘Jesus, Min, there is blood on you.’_

____

_Dongmin eyed the red specks on his t-shirt, then looked up straight into Bin's eyes. There was no point sugar coating things._

____

_‘That's not mine.’_

____

_Colour drained from Bin's face, ‘Can you tell me what the hell happened?’_

____

_While he was talking, Bin didn’t speak, he didn’t move, the only thing betraying his emotions his frozen face._

____

_‘Min, why didn’t you tell me?’_

____

_‘When?’ Dongmin didn’t meet Bin’s direct, searching gaze._

____

_‘I don’t know… ages ago? I would have knocked his teeth out; just tell me his name and I will do it right now.’_

____

_‘And that’s exactly what I didn’t want. And I don’t want you to do it now either.’_

____

_‘But why?’_

____

____

_‘I just don’t, ok? He will not dare to do anything now; I think this was enough. Let it go, Binnie, please.’_

____

_‘Why don’t you trust me?’ Bin sunk down, slumping next to him on the floor, not letting go of his hand._

____

_’That’s not true, Binnie,’ Dongmin whispered, heart heavy. ‘It’s just… I don’t want you to get involved. I have dealt with it until now, I can handle it.’_

____

_‘When exactly did it start?’ Bin’s voice was so quiet Dongmin barely heard it._

_He shrugged, the weariness of it all heavy on his shoulders. ‘Sometimes at the beginning of the second year, I think. It’s hard to tell now because it wasn’t much at the beginning. Sarcastic remarks, the odd shove in the corridor, the sneers behind my back. I guess a part of my brain couldn’t believe this was going on. Surely, things like that happened amongst younger kids, not college students.’_

____

_Bin’s fingers closed around his hand in silent support, the warmth seeping into his cold, clammy skin._

____

_‘At first, I didn’t tell anyone. Not in school, not at home. When visiting my parents, I simply put on a front, plastered a smile on my face and answered questions about how I was doing with a standard ‘I’m fine.’ Mum and Dad were proud of me; for them, the perfect grades were enough to believe I was happy. I didn’t have the heart to shatter that illusion.'_

_He let out a shuddery breath. 'But the anger was there, you know, inside me, slowly building up. As things got worse, I didn’t know what to do. I was strong enough, I could probably beat him up…but I had a feeling it would only make things worse.’_

____

_’Why?’ cried Bin. ‘I would have beaten him up!’_

____

_‘No.’_

____

____

_Dongmin hugged himself, feeling shaky again. ‘Because at some point he started calling me… pretty.’_

____

_He wasn’t looking at Bin but felt him stiffening, the reassuring rubbing of his fingers frozen to a halt._

____

_‘I swear I will kill him if he ever touched you.’ There was so much darkness in Bin’s whisper, Dongmin shuddered even more._

____

_‘No,’ he let go of Bin’s hand and rubbed his forearms in a vain attempt to feel warmer, to chase the cold numbness away. ‘It wasn’t… that. But I think he… guessed. Or suspected.’_

____

_‘Oh god.’_

____

_‘Do you understand now?’_

____

_Bin didn’t respond, merely pulled Dongmin onto his chest. ‘I’m so sorry, Min.’_

____

_‘I felt so lonely.’ The tears started rolling now, soaking Bin’s shirt, who didn’t move, merely tightened his grip on Dongmin, holding him close. ___

______ _ _

_‘And you didn’t tell anyone?’_

______ _ _

_‘Dahyun guessed. We just started ‘dating’ and it didn’t take her long to figure out something was wrong. She got so angry when I told her; I’ve never seen her so upset. I think that was the beginning of what eventually became the plan of us getting engaged. To protect ourselves. Or me mainly, even if she was always quick to insist that she gained through it as well.’_

______ _ _

_Dongmin hung his head, the shame and humiliation twisting his stomach. ‘I felt like the biggest coward when she came up with the idea. I didn’t want to at first but I couldn’t afford any rumours. You know how my father is. In the end it was easier to just… go with it.’_

______ _ _

_‘I would probably do the same,’ Bin voice was gentle. ‘Your father is… well, he is a little… intimidating.’_

_‘You haven’t heard him talking about… he calls us sick people. And worse. Sometimes, when Dahyun stayed around for dinner and he… started, she would crush my fingers under the table so hard, I thought she wanted to break them. As if she was afraid I would explode in my father’s face any minute and wanted to distract me with a different sort of pain._

_‘I’m so sorry, beautiful,’ Bin whispered, the agony in his voice raw. He pulled Dongmin into his lap, tucked his head under his chin._

______ _ _

_‘Did your plan work?’_

_Dongmin sighed, let him himself relax against the familiar warmth of Bin’s body. ‘I think it did. I don’t think he and his fiends,’ – he was careful to avoid Wonchul’s name – ‘were a hundred per cent convinced but I was able to relax because now, if my father heard something, I could laugh it off and dismiss it as someone envious just trying to be nasty.’_

______ _ _

_He buried his face in the crook of Bin’s neck. It was easier somehow to let it all out, to let the words tumble out, while inhaling Bin’s familiar scent, without looking into his worried eyes._

_‘I took up boxing to cope with the anger that was slowly building up inside me; that helped too. I wasn’t as afraid anymore. And all of that must have shown somehow because gradually, they left me more or less alone. Not straightaway, not fully, but things got much better.’_

_Bin cradled him to his chest, ‘You really think he will stop now?’_

_‘I’m sure,’ the conviction in his voice was perhaps a little forced but he wanted to believe it. For Bin, for himself._

_Bin exhaled, as if he was holding his breath the whole time and his grip on Dongmin loosened a little._

_‘I can't believe you kept it secret from everybody for so long,’ he sighed into Dongmin’s hair._

_He smiled weakly. ‘I’m good at keeping secrets. The only one apart from Dahyun, who wasn’t fooled, was Jinjin.’_

 

……………………………

 

_'Hey, what’s going on?'_

_Jinjin handed him a beer bottle and sank onto the bench with a grateful groan. The orange pool of light from the streetlamp above their heads hid the inky blue of the sky. The air was cool, lacking the warmth of a summer night, but pleasant; mild spring breeze was ruffling their hair._

_The restaurant door was open but the lights inside were out, the last customers having departed long ago. Jinjin’s shift has ended, and Dongmin, having spent Saturday with his parents, stayed behind to hang out with him._

_‘What do you mean?’ he refused to look up, eyes fixed stubbornly on the bottle in his hands._

________ _ _ _ _

_‘Don’t give me that. I know something is wrong. You look spaced out all the time.’_

________ _ _ _ _

_‘Spaced out?’ he laughed a little nervously, a shaky bravado belying the cruel twist in his stomach. “I don’t know what you talking about.’_

_’When you think no one is looking you look like… like something empty. What’s going on, Dongmin?’_

_Rationally, the sensible move was to smile, deny, to come up with an excuse. But he couldn’t do it anymore. His secret was a shackle around his ankle, ball and chain dragging behind him all the time and he was tired._

_So tired._

_________ _ _ _ _ _

_‘There is… someone at school who is making my life hell.’_

_________ _ _ _ _ _

_‘What do you mean, Min?’ Jinjin set the empty bottle on the ground and turned to face him._

_________ _ _ _ _ _

_Dongmin kept his head down. Not looking into Jinjin’s eyes was easier; the words came out quicker, smoother._

_________ _ _ _ _ _

_‘It was nothing at first. Stupid teasing, a push sometimes, my things being hidden or lost, nothing I couldn’t handle,’ he reassured, despite seeing Jinjin’s horrified face. ‘But…’_

_________ _ _ _ _ _

_‘But?’_

_________ _ _ _ _ _

_‘He is starting to… I don’t even know what it is… He is calling me these… names… and I’m afraid…’ To his horror, Dongmin’s eyes filled with tears._

_________ _ _ _ _ _

_‘What is it Dongmin? What does he call you?’ Jinjin scooted closer and wrapped his arm around Dongmin’s shoulders._

_________ _ _ _ _ _

_He shook his head mutely._

_‘Please,’ Jinjin gave his shoulder a squeeze, ‘you know you can tell me anything. What does he call you?’_

_In the silence, Dongmin could only hear his shuddery breaths._

_________ _ _ _ _ _

_‘Pretty.’_

_There. The word was out, in the open._

_It hung in the air, laden with meaning beyond the obvious, meaning that was gripping Dongmin’s throat and threatening to choke him._

_Jinjin squirmed a little, ‘Well, you are. I mean... You do… you really look good. But you know that, right? You know you are good looking.’_

_‘But he said pretty, Jinjin,’ Dongmin whispered. ‘Like girl-pretty. Like boys-wanting-to-kiss-girls pretty.’_

_In the heartbeat of stillness, the meaning hovered above their heads, a quiet menace._

_‘The bastard,’ Jinjin’s voice was shook with supressed anger. ‘How dare he…’_

_Dongmin’s slumped, curled in onto himself, ‘What if he is right, though?’_

_‘What… what do you mean?’ Jinjin’s let go of his shoulders, his words like slow footsteps on shards of broken glass, cautious, hesitant._

_‘What if I want…boys to kiss me?’_

_‘You… you do?’_

_‘I think I do.’_

_The silence rolled around in thick waves, crushing Dongmin to the ground. With every heartbeat, he felt more afraid to look at his best friend._

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Finally, he couldn’t bear it any more. ‘Look at me Jinjin. Please, look at me.’_

_Their eyes met, Dongmin’s pleading and scared, Jinjin’s cautious, guarded._

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_‘Are you disgusted by me?’_

_‘No,’ Jinjin shook his head, his words measured. ‘I’m not. You are my friend. You are still you, no matter whom you like.’_

_But Dongmin could feel the slightest wavering of his friend’s voice, the tiniest shift in his gaze, away from him, away from his eyes._

_‘But you… it feels different now, right? Us?’_

_‘No!’ The shake of Jinjin’s head got more vehement. ‘Just… Can you tell me… Have you ever wanted to kiss… me?’_

_‘What?’_

_Dongmin was so shocked, he nearly fell of the bench. Despite everything, he had to supress a huffy laugh, looking sideways at his friend, marvelling at the absurdity._

_Jinjin was not reacting though, his face a smooth, blank surface._

_Waiting._

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Dongmin sobered up. ‘No,’ he cleared his throat, feeling the weight of Jinjin’s stare. ‘No, I… I never wanted to kiss you.’_

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_‘Phew.’ Jinjin’s smile, the relaxed exhale, was like the sweetest music to Dongmin’s ears. ‘I’m glad. I mean, I love you but… you know, not in that way. I like girls, that’s it. And it would have made things awkward, with you being sad and me feeling guilty about it. But now, it’s fine.’_

_Jinwoo leaned over, draping his arm over Dongmin’s shoulders again, pulling him close. ‘I don’t want to lose you, Min. You are my best friend. I don’t care whether you like girls, boys, aliens – I don’t care. I’m here for you.’_

_‘Thank you.’ Dongmin wanted to say more, he wanted to tell Jinjin this moment meant everything to him but the words didn’t come out, only a small choking sound._

_‘It’s ok,’ Jinjin rubbed his back gently. ‘And now that we established that you are not lusting after me, we can sort out the more important stuff. Show me the asshole and I will kick his teeth out.’_

.......................

_The memory made Dongmin smile into Bin’s shirt._

_‘Jinjin was the only one apart from Dahyun who knew what was going on. I didn’t tell him who it was though.’_

_‘But why? Why didn’t you tell him? And why won’t you tell me?’_

_Dongmin sighed, ‘Because I don’t want you to get caught up in this, Binnie. I don’t want to give him… more ammunition. If you go and beat him up, it will only confirm what he already suspects. He would know then. He would know about us. That’s why.’_

_‘Oh. I haven’t thought of it that way.’_

_He curled up into a ball, the familiar sinking feeling in his stomach, ‘I’m so sorry, Binnie. I am such a coward. You must think I’m ashamed of you.’_

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_‘Sh, I know you are not, beautiful,’ Bin’s arms were an oasis but the darkness inside was overflowing, threatening to spill, to flood his brain, his soul._

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_‘I should be shouting it for everyone to hear. That I have such an amazing boyfriend. But I am a coward, Binnie; I can’t do it. I’m scared of telling people, I’m scared of what would happen. I’m scared now,’ he lifted his head, feeling his breath going faster with the onset of panic._

_‘You will be fine. Nothing will happen. Does he have any connection to your parents?’_

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Dongmin frowned slightly, trying to sift through memories of various school recitals, or whether he ever saw Wonchul at his parents’ restaurant._

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_‘I don’t think so.’_

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_‘See? It’s gonna be fine.’ Bin smile was light again._

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_‘But I hate this. I hate the hiding, the lies. I hate myself for that.’_

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_‘Don’t say that. You will tell when you ready.’_

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_‘I am making you lie too,’ whispered Dongmin miserably._

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_‘It’s ok, I’m not that keen on coming out just yet either. My parents, on the surface, are quite relaxed but there might be a difference between acting all liberal in general and being supportive when their son comes out one day. Don’t worry about it. When we’re ready, we will tell everybody. We have time.’_

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Bin pulled him closer, ‘Are you hungry? I cooked; I ate already but there is plenty left.’_

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_‘Not hungry,’ he murmured into Bin’s chest. ‘Want to stay like this.’_

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Bin’s fingers lifted his chin; his lips grazed Dongmin’s, the slightest touch. He could feel Bin smiling into the kiss._

_‘That’s fine. But we can't stay here on the floor all night. Come.’ Bin took Dongmin’s hand and started kissing his bruised knuckles, slowly, one by one._

_‘Come to bed, beautiful.’_

_The sheets and soft pillows, when he sunk into them, smelled like home._

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Bin knelt over him and took his hands, ‘Sit up.’_

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Confused, he let Bin pull him up and winced slightly when his t-shirt was yanked off him in one swift movement._

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_‘I don’t want HIS blood on you,’ Bin gently pushed him back into the mattress and started pulling down Dongmin’s jeans. ‘I don’t want his blood in MY bed.’_

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Goosebumps on his naked skin, he hugged himself and smiled a little,’ You said we would not do the ‘your room, my room’ thing, remember? So technically, this is not YOUR bed.’_

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Bin paused, buttons on his shirt half undone, ‘But it sounds better.’_

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_He climbed closer, his breath warming Dongmin’s cheek, ‘When I say I want you in MY bed, it sounds sexier.’_

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_‘You are weird, you know that?’ Dongmin smiled lazily, tilting his head, allowing Bin’s lips slide down his neck._

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_‘And you are beautiful.’ Bin’s mouth paused on his collarbone. ‘My beautiful.’_

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Dongmin chuckled and closed his eyes, letting his mind go, letting himself free-fall into the space where no one could reach him but Bin, his warmth, his hands on his body, his lips on Dongmin’s skin._

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Home._

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	5. Pretty in Red

## 

Pretty in Red

The clicking of Alice’s heels brought him back to reality. He turned, relieved to see her excited face, and rather eager to leave certain memories behind.

‘Sorry, darling, shall we carry on?’

He smiled and bowed his head slightly, ‘I’m ready, my lady.’

Alice giggled, looking like a schoolgirl for a moment, then linked their arms together and led him to the main exhibition room.

'The oils are all given the space in the main room. We put them in chronological order, to show Binnie's evolution as an artist.'

Standing in the middle of the main showroom, he was momentarily stunned. All the paintings grouped together, the energy was overwhelming.

The latest one – Bin finished it last week - hung on the far wall. Eyes drawn to it, he walked slowly towards the painting, the hypnotising pull of it tugging at him, tugging at something deep down, something private.

Something he didn’t want to share.

Dongmin's pale face emerging from a dark background, his blood-red shirt the only splash of colour.

Julia, after seeing it drying at home, had whispered, ' _un poco asustador_ ,' and he loved her for that because he secretly thought the same.

 

 

…………………..

 

 

_‘Do I really need to wear it?’_

_‘It will look good on you,’ Richard’s voice was muffled. ‘And besides, you have no other choice.’_

_Dongmin suppressed a laugh as he watched his colleague and boss almost sticking his head into the depths of a massive wardrobe, rummaging in its contents._

_Richard, a man of considerable girth, straightened up, panting slightly. Clutching in his hand was a red shirt with the yellow crest of Lindmann High on the breast pocket. He thrust it into Dongmin’s hand and grinned._

_‘There. I know you were hoping that I wouldn’t find it but as the head of our music department I would make sure you were wearing it for the concert, even if I had to sew it myself. Just make sure you wash it; it must have been here since Martin left three years ago. Your predecessor, Miss Yates, had slightly different… dimensions,’ he winked at Dongmin._

_‘Richard, you dirty old man,’ Dongmin half-groaned, half-laughed. With Richard, he never quite knew what was said in all seriousness and what was a joke._

_'What?’ Richard’s eyebrows shot up high. ‘You are as thin as a stick. She had much rounder… shoulders.’_

_‘Oh my god, you are incredible.’_

_‘Just be quiet and make sure you wear it on Friday night.’_

_Dongmin rolled his eyes, eyeing the bright-red fabric. ‘Why? I’m only accompanying the kids on the piano.’_

_'And lead the junior vocal group. And play with the jazz ensemble. Stop complaining, Dongmin; if anything, you will be the only one who will pull this off. You are young and good-looking. I weigh twice as much as you and my hair is still mostly ginger. The summer concert is the only day when I wish my hair were already grey. It would go nicely with that stupid red.’_

_‘Who came up with the idea that even teachers need to be colour-coordinated for the summer concert?’ Dongmin mused._

_‘Not a clue. The tradition must be dating from ages ago, judging by old school pictures. And be glad you haven’t experienced the old shirts, during Principal Wilson’s time. They must have been as old as Methuselah.’_

_Richards slammed the wardrobe shut, the wood creaking loudly, as he struggled a little to turn an ancient key in the lock.  Once done, he motioned for Dongmin to leave the room with a relieved sigh._

_Dongmin marched out, piercing the shirt with an incredulous look. ‘I thought Lindmann’s was rolling in money and perfectly able to afford decent shirts for the music department performances, judging by the number of parents who can afford to come to our charity quiz night every year.’_

_The annual evening, extremely popular with parents, raised money for a different local charity every year. When Dongmin learned the tickets to attend cost $500 each, it had left him slightly breathless._

_‘Don’t judge the book by its cover,’ sniggered Richard, as he was locking up the room._

_Their footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, leisurely, unhurried. There were still twenty minutes left of their free period before the afternoon staff meeting at 4 o’clock._

_Richard laughed at Dongmin’s huffy expression. ‘Dear old Wilson was not a big spender when it came to desires of the flesh. And that included decent clothes. The soul is what truly matters, he used to say. That meant the budget for musical instruments was generous, as long as we stuck to classics and old hymns. No jazz for you, young man, or god forbid R &B or hip-hop. Back then, you wouldn’t last a month here.’_

_Feeling his mood lifting, Dongmin laughed, despite the stupid shirt in his hand. He liked Richard, even if he felt mildly mortified at times at his politically incorrect remarks and dirty jokes. ‘And what about the shirts?’_

_‘Oh God, those. Don’t even go there, they must have remember Reagan’s days.’_

_Dongmin did a quick mental maths, ‘That’s eighties, right?’_

_‘Correct. You might want to look at some old pictures hanging in the smaller music room. You’ll see what I’m talking about. Anyway, we are lucky to have good old Reggie now. She might look like an old maid, but I remember to this day, one of the first changes she made when she became the new principal, was to equip music and drama departments with a decent budget for costumes. The red is just an unfortunate coincidence because it has to match our school colours but at least the cut and material are decent.’_

_‘Principal Mills is amazing.’_

_Even after nearly three years at Lindmann’s, Dongmin was in awe of the formidable lady, always ramrod straight and poised, unwaveringly strict but fair and, what Dongmin found the most surprising, with an eclectic taste in music and fluent in several languages. One of his most memorable moments from their first meeting was how effortlessly she switched from English to Japanese during his job interview after she read in his resume that he passed the Japanese proficiency test. It had transpired that she had lived in Osaka for seven years with her first husband and only came back to the States after he died in a car accident._

_“Oh, she is magnificent,’ agreed Richard eagerly. ‘Very prim and proper but one can’t fault her as the head.’ He slapped Dongmin’s shoulder. ‘Shall we grab a quick coffee before the staff meeting?’_

_‘Would love to.’_

_In the staff room a giant coffee machine sat in the corner on a low table, a stack of delicate china cups next to it. Warm rolls were nestled in a big basket covered with a white cloth._

_Richard delved into the cupboard under the machine, ‘Those freaking cups are like thimbles. That amount wouldn’t wake up a mosquito.’_

_He pulled out an enormous mug with a picture of Sponge Bob on it._

_‘This is the one,’ he chuckled. ‘A present from one of my pupils years ago. He knew me well.’_

_The steam was making a hissy sound as he helped himself to a massive cappuccino._

_Dongmin took a cup and a saucer from the pile and waited until Richard’s mug got filled up._

_‘No sugar, no milk?' Richard eyed the inky black liquid in Dongmin's cup. ‘Boy, you know nothing about pleasures in life.’_

_Dongmin ducked his head a little, smiled and followed Richard outside, through the French windows leading onto a manicured lawn overlooking the vast playing fields. The air was mild and fragrant, the light breeze carrying voices of a group of boys playing a game of soccer._

_Richard took a gulp and gazed dreamily at the boys chasing the ball._

_‘Christ, summer is here, finally.’ He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. ‘Do you smell the summer?’_

_And he did._

_The bitter, fresh smell of the perfectly cut grass mixed with warm scent of pine trees lining the playing fields. From a nearby flowerbed, roses of all colours were filling the air with their sweet, heavy perfume._

_‘Are you coming to the party next Saturday?’_

_Dongmin nearly jumped out of his skin. Gazing over the playing fields, enjoying the calm, he almost forgot Richard was there._

_He eyed his colleague a little hesitantly, ‘Well, I’m not sure yet…’_

_Before he had a chance to elaborate, a ball landed in front of them with a dull thud, bouncing up and down couple of times until Dongmin stopped it with his foot._

_Jason, a sturdy thirteen-year old, who, Dongmin knew, would be in his class next year, sprinted after the ball but stopped when seeing it landing in front of the teachers._

_Dongmin smiled and waved. He set the china cup on down on the grass and took the ball._

_‘Hey, Mr Lee! Show us what you’ve got!’ Jason was eyeing him expectantly, a light smirk playing on his lips._

_He set the ball on the ground, taking couple of steps back._

_Jason gave him a thumbs-up, the slightly patronising look on his face belying the encouraging gesture._

_He kicked the ball._

_It soared high in the air, flying in a graceful arc over Jason’s head, almost all the way back to the soccer field._

_The boy gaped, eyes wide, mouthing a silent ‘oh,‘ then sprinted after it. ‘Thank you!’ he shouted over his shoulder, without looking back._

_Richard whistled and started laughing._

_‘What’s so funny?’ Dongmin felt the moment was significant for some reason but he couldn’t quite see it._

_‘You might have no idea but you just bought yourself a peaceful year with your new class. If Jason likes you, you have almost won. He is a strong, charismatic personality, well liked by his friends, which he has many of. A leader. Plays French horn in the orchestra and is reasonably good at it – no doubt pushed by his parents – but he couldn’t care less about music. His passion is sport; he dreams to be a professional football player. I bet he secretly thinks music is for sissies. Now you convinced him that we are not quite what we seem.’_

_Richard grinned at him, as if he won a lottery and Dongmin returned the smile._

_‘But back to the party.’ Richard’s face grew determined and Dongmin’s smile faltered a little.’_

_‘I sincerely hope you are coming. Plus one as well; we need some new blood, it always makes it more interesting. Come on, you have to be there.’_

_‘Hi boys.’_

_A head of dark, unruly curls peeked from behind the curtain, followed by a slim figure in a floaty black dress. ‘Richard, stop pestering Dongmin.’_

_‘I am not. What gave you the idea?’_

_‘His face. What are you doing to him?’_

_Lucy taught art and made no secret of the fact that she liked riling up Richard whenever she could. She would openly roast him if he uttered any of his misogynist jokes in her presence and Dongmin had a feeling that Richard, for all his bravado and seniority, feared her scathing tongue._

_Richard sighed, clearly aware that it wouldn’t be a wise move to push his luck. Lucy seemed in a good mood today and it was worth to keep the status quo. ‘I am merely trying to convince Dongmin to come to the end-of-the year-party.’_

_He turned back to Dongmin, ’Come on, boy, you know we’re seriously overpowered here by so many women. The attendance of all male teachers is mandatory. I know there will be quite a few husbands coming but it’s not quite the same. You need to come. And bring your girlfriend, if you have one. Sorry, maybe I should know but I’m not really that invested in finding out about private lives of my colleagues – contrary to popular opinion, not all teachers are nosy. So bring your girl – or wife – and come.’_

_‘My boyfriend.’_

_In the silence, his heart was beating so wildly, he felt almost faint._

_‘But that’s great!’ Richard roared enthusiastically and slapped Dongmin’s shoulder so hard, it nearly made him sink to his knees. ‘This will improve the male-female ratio enormously. Boy, I knew you would be an asset the moment you started.’_

_Dongmin met Lucy’s eyes and tried to steady his shaking hands. The reassuring smile on her face nearly made him weep with gratitude._

__

_‘I hope you both will be able to come,' she said simply, her voice soft._

__

_‘Of course they'll come.’_

__

_By now, Richard was like a runaway train. ‘Marvellous! Gay, straight or bi, we need more male presence next Saturday. This ambience is too saturated with ladies. Sorry, Lucy, it’s nothing personal. Does he know anything about music?’_

__

_Dongmin smiled and exhaled a little, his mood lifting, ‘Well, he has to. Must have absorbed some knowledge by osmosis over the years, whether he wanted it or not.’_

__

_‘Great. Sporty? There is always an impromptu game of soccer or some races going on later, once we get sufficiently drunk.’_

__

_‘He is a great sprinter.’ Dongmin supressed a sudden urge to laugh at the sight of Richard’s shameless enthusiasm._

__

_Lucy smiled, ‘Can he dance?’_

__

_‘Oh, come on!’ Richard rolled his eyes. ‘That’s irrelevant. He needs to know about music – that’s for me, talk sport – that’s for Andy and the rest of the PE department, and join in with the games if we ever want to beat them at soccer. What does he need to be a good dancer for?’_

__

_Lucy met Richard eyes with a stubborn gaze. ‘This one is for us girls – can he dance?’ She faced Dongmin and gave him a tiny wink._

__

_‘He is an incredible dancer.’_

__

_‘Ah well then, I don’t see you have a choice here. We will be expecting you both next Saturday.’ Richard smiled, drained the rest of his coffee and slapped Dongmin on the back._

__

_This time he saw it coming and braced himself for the impact._

__

_‘I’d better head in. Staff meeting starts in ten. See you both there.’_

__

_Left alone with Lucy, they watched the finale of the game in silence, screams of the victorious team making them smile._

__

_Dongmin let out a shaky breath._

__

_His chest felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted off it._

__

_He said it._

__

_He had been scared, mainly of Richard’s reaction – but he said it._

__

_My boyfriend._

__

_Richard, always sarcastic, slightly offensive and a little intimidating, Richard whom he liked but whose reactions he could never predict – he didn’t make fun of him._

__

_Even after five years in the States, Dongmin found it hard to shake the shadow of fear when talking to people about his private life. Walking the streets of San Francisco with Bin holding his hand had become easy by now. Admitting to people that were important to him, especially in his work life, that he was gay still felt ominous._

__

_With the exception of couple of close friends – Alice and her husband, Jennie, Nathan and Tim – Dongmin kept his private life to himself. The fear of judgement was still there, a dark, heavy weight above his head._

__

_In theory, Bin’s exhibit should have been a terrifying prospect too but somehow it felt less scary than looking directly into his colleague’s eyes and saying those words out loud._

__

_‘You ok?’ Lucy eyed him with a quiet concern. ‘Was this your, so to speak, coming out of the closet here at Lindmann’s?’_

__

_He could only nod his head mutely._

__

_‘You did it,’ she gently rubbed his arm. ‘I somehow knew it wasn’t easy for you. That’s why you never said anything for so long, right?’_

__

_Feeling deeply moved by her and Richard’s kindness, he felt himself blush. ‘How did you know?’_

__

_‘Not sure, just a feeling,’ Lucy shrugged lightly, her eyes back on the expanses of green in front of her._

__

_‘I… I don’t usually share things about my private life.’ Eyes trained at a small patch of dirt at his feet, he didn’t dare to lift his head._

__

_‘It’s fine.’_

__

_‘I’m not used to people being ok with me being gay, that’s why I don’t talk about it. I’m sorry.’_

__

_He felt, rather than saw, Lucy watching him and forced himself to look up._

__

_Lucy’s eyes were soft, ‘What about your family?’_

__

_‘No. Not exactly ok with it.’_

__

_‘I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure they come around eventually. Have they met your boyfriend?’_

__

_‘Yes, but they didn’t know we were dating. When we told them… things didn’t go that well.’_

__

_‘Well, I’m sure once they get to know him better and with time…’ she trailed off, seeing a pained expression on Dongmin’s face._

__

_‘There isn’t much opportunity for them to meet. Not anymore.’_

_‘Do they live far?’_

__

_‘In South Korea.’_

__

_‘The soft ‘oh’ escaping Lucy’s lips was the only sound for a while._

__

_‘I’m sorry, Dongmin. I didn’t mean to pry.’_

__

_He shook his head. ‘It’s fine. I just… I don’t really talk about it.’_

__

_‘Well, in that case, you’d better get used to us all being fine with it. And I mean it.’ She looked into his eyes. ‘Next Saturday, I’m intending to get to know you both a lot better. Please come. Both of you.’_

__

_She gave his arm a gentle squeeze, swivelled around and disappeared through the window back inside, the billowing curtains pushed aside the only witness to their conversation._

__

_Dongmin took a deep, steadying breath._

__

_They will be going to his work party together_

__

_As a couple._

__

_He wasn’t sure whether he felt scared or excited; he just knew it would be a milestone._

__

__

……………………

__

 

__

_‘I love you in red, beautiful.’_

__

_Bin appeared in the bathroom door, watching Dongmin trying to smooth his hair in front of the mirror._

__

_Dongmin rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t, ok? I look idiotic.’ He attacked one particularly stubborn strand of hair with more wax._

__

_‘Why? I think you look sexy.’_

__

_He smiled but didn’t look away from the mirror. ‘Please, spare me. The shirt is ridiculous.’_

__

_‘You are like a vampire.’ Bin came closer and barred his teeth with a grin. ‘I could eat you right now.’_

__

_‘If I’m a vampire, am I not supposed to be the one doing the biting?’_

__

_‘Oh,’ Bin paused, brows furrowed. ‘Good point.’_

__

_Eyes narrowing in a mischievous grin, he pulled at his t-shirt, exposing the collarbone. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, faking heavy breaths, ‘Please bite me, gorgeous. Please… please.’_

__

_Dongmin huffed with supressed laughter. ‘Stop it, you moron.’_

__

_He threw the pot of wax back in the cabinet and turned, ready to go._

__

_‘Please, beautiful. I want it. I need it.’ Bin was smirking but held his gaze, watching him stalling. ‘Don’t you want to have some fun?’_

__

_Almost against his will, Dongmin's movement faltered. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore._

__

_‘I have to go, Binnie.’ His whisper sounded alien, even to himself, in the silence of the bathroom._

__

_‘Come on, beautiful. Play with me.’  Bin bit his lower lip, his smile suddenly shy, but he didn’t move, his head still tilted, his throat still exposed in parody of a B-rated vampire movie._

__

_Dongmin stared._

__

_This was ridiculous._

__

_He really needed to go now._

__

_But he found that wanting to leave and actually leaving were two very different things._

__

_His eyes were drawn to the tantalising spot on Bin’s neck where a small vein was pulsing, each sweet beat making his legs involuntarily inch closer._

__

_He knew the exactly how that tiny spot tasted._

__

_I don’t have time, I really need to go, he thought helplessly._

__

_But we don’t play anymore._

__

_Not like this._

__

_Is everyone stuck in the sweet predictability of vanilla, he wondered, after eight years, or is it just us?_

__

_He knew it was more than that; he knew that in the last couple of months, with anxiety seeping through his bones like cancer, he inadvertently drove a wedge between them, and Bin, for all the parody and silliness of the moment, was now trying desperately to dislodge it._

__

_The thought almost made him cry._

__

_I love you, Binnie._

__

_He eyed the smoothness of Bin’s throat, the sharp angle of his collarbone._

__

_The delicate skin._

__

_The soft pulse._

__

_Why not?_

__

_One minute, no more._

__

_With lightning speed, he pushed Bin against the wall and pressed his lips against the soft, thudding spot._

__

_At first, Bin giggled and squirmed against him, but he pinned him harder against the cool tiles and sucked at the tender skin, enjoying how Bin’s laugh turned to gasps as he rolled it between his teeth, enjoying the feel of Bin’s legs buckling, how there was nowhere for him to go as Dongmin’s hips held him in place._

__

_Bin’s fingers slid into his hair, tugging desperately, not to get him off his throat, he realised, but co keep him there, face pressed into the crook of Bin’s neck._

__

_By now, all blood left his brain, leaving him light-headed, breathless. It was a heady, intoxicating feeling, one he hasn’t felt for months._

__

_Bin’s sharp intakes of breath, each one of them, threatened to crumble the walls he had surrounded himself with and it felt good._

__

_His thoughts were spiralling out of control; time was spiralling out of control, fast, like sand, slipping through his fingers, inconsequential, negligible - the only thing that mattered the way Bin was clinging to him._

__

_Time didn’t mean anything, not now. Not now when he was ready to drown again in something he thought have run dry through his fault. Time could stand still, for all he cared._

_Painfully stabbing at the back of his consciousness, however, there was something - something, he recalled hazily, that needed to be done._

__

_The concert._

__

_Oh no._

__

_Almost in pain, he gently prised Bin’s fingers off him and lifted his head, trying desperately to breathe, to steady himself._

__

_Watching Bin, slumped against the wall, his eyelids fluttering shut, he felt a sense of awe._

__

_I love you._

__

_He let go of Bin’s shoulders and pulled back gently._

__

_‘What… What are you doing?’ Bin blinked, unfocused, staggering to keep upright._

__

_‘I have to go. The concert,’ he smiled a little sadly into Bin’s hazed eyes and pressed a slow, soft kiss onto his lips._

__

_‘Can I make it up to you tonight?’ he was almost angry with himself for feeling shy all of a sudden._

__

_Bin was still leaning on the wall, panting, legs shaking a little, watching as Dongmin squeezed past, ‘You’d better, beautiful.’_

__

__

_In the hallway he grabbed his keys and opened the door._

__

_‘Wait!’ Bin followed him, looking as if was about to faint._

__

_‘I really need to go, Binnie.’_

__

_‘I want to paint you wearing it.’_

__

_For a moment his mind paused, uncomprehending, suspended mid-air. ‘What?’_

__

_‘I want to paint you wearing that red shirt,’ Bin breathed out. He was holding onto the doorframe, as if looking for support, as if struggling to think clearly, but the artist in him was there, conscious and sharp, regaining his focus._

__

_Dongmin laughed out loud, an overwhelming sense of lightness penetrating his whole being. ‘You need to bribe me, baby.’_

__

_This time, Bin didn’t miss a beat. ‘Fried chicken and beer on Sunday?’ he grinned, challenging, the balance of power shifting almost imperceptibly again._

__

_Hand on the door handle, Dongmin smiled back, eyes pointedly on the mark on Bin’s neck, ‘Deal.’_

__

_‘I will call it Pretty in Red,’ Bin’s eyes were crinkling so hard, they almost disappeared._

__

_Dongmin shot him a murderous look as the door was swinging shut. ‘In your dreams, Binnie.’_

__

_Followed by the sound of Bin’s laughter, he raced down the stairs, feeling lighter than he did in weeks._

__

_Maybe wearing red more often was a good idea after all._

__

 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you spot a couple of subtle references to their latest album, all are purely and utterly intentional;-)


	6. The Secret

 

## 

The Secret 

 

‘What do you think of this one? The Secret?’

Dongmin was standing in front of Bin’s latest painting. It was a portrait of him, head and torso illuminated by soft, yellow light that stood out in sharp contrast against the darkness of the background. Despite the deep red of his shirt, his face was the focus, something the spectator’s eyes were immediately drawn to. Perhaps it was something in Dongmin’s gaze, unwavering and direct, aimed straight at the audience; it felt like it was penetrating the soul of the observer.

‘Hm,’ Alice, standing behind his back, was surveying the painting with quiet intensity. ‘It’s almost Rembrandt-like, I feel, but very sexy.’         

‘Rembrandt?’ Dongmin frowned a little confused. He could see Alice’s point when it came to the famous artist but wasn’t quite able to pinpoint the similarities.

‘Yes, Rembrandt. It’s all about the light, see?’

She pointed at Dongmin’s cheekbone in the picture. ‘The way Bin uses the light to illuminate the left side of your face directly, while your right side gets the light from an indirect source. Did he use a mirror?’

Dongmin shot her a sideways glance, a little in awe, ‘He did! How did you guess?’

‘It’s a common technique, often used in photography – and it’s called Rembrandt lighting. Not sure the artist himself invented it but he sure loved to use it. It gives his paintings that sense of natural flow; he didn’t like going for the heavily staged look.’

‘Wow,’ Dongmin breathed. ‘But I hope people won’t say that Binnie is blindly copying Rembrandt.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,’ Alice shook her head with a little smile. ‘The light might be Rembrandt but the sex appeal, that’s Bin. Or you rather – that’s all yours.’

He laughed, a little embarrassed, ‘Sexy? You know I don’t do sexy.’

‘I know you don't, darling. Not on purpose, anyway. You are a damn walking renaissance painting. When you and Binnie walk down the street, most people want to take you home, put you in a picture frame and hang you up on a wall. And of course, they want to take Bin home too,' she added, almost as an afterthought, 'to bed.'

Dongmin snorted with laughter.

She was right, of course. From afar, he often intimidated people with his flawless beauty; when close-up, some found him almost too nice and a little uptight. If they went to a party, he would see girls giggling at him from across the room but after talking to him, people often found themselves confiding in him and becoming friends. Bin would come home with half a dozen of phone numbers written on napkins pressed upon him, with 'call me' scribbled in the corner.

He didn't really mind. His looks were something he had struggled with when he was younger. He always had to work twice as hard at anything, just to prove he wasn't just a 'pretty face.' The crippling anxiety that people didn't really like him for who he was and only wanted him around because he looked good (for “decorative purposes”, as he used to call it bitterly), he only managed to fully shake off in San Francisco, a melting pot of a place where beauty standards were as varied as pizza toppings and the “each to their own” principle applied to everything, from fashion sense to sexual preferences.

Now, at almost thirty, he finally liked being in his own skin. With Alice he could even joke about his good looks. Happily married to a charismatic French art dealer Nicolas and her sexual intentions securely directed elsewhere, she took the outrageous flirting with him to a completely new level. Knowing she wasn’t serious, he loved every minute of it.

He laughed, 'Alice, you are doing irreparable damage to my self-esteem today, you know that?'

‘I'm sorry, darling, that was not my intention at all. What I mean,’ Alice looked at the dark canvas, ‘the painting is sexy because that's how Bin sees you. This is you in his eyes,’ she smiled.

‘A little scary.’

'A beautiful man with a dark secret,’ she winked at him. 'People will gladly pay for that. I’m predicting a quick sale.'

‘Alice, you are so outright, it’s almost shocking. You would be able to sell you own grandmother, wouldn't you?’

‘I could, darling, and I would. If the gallery depended on that.’

‘Well, I'm glad I'm not your granny then.'

‘You would be an extremely sexy one,’ she grinned.

‘If I recall you said people don't find me sexy.’

‘If I recall I said most people. I'm not most people. I happen to find true beauty very... alluring, shall we say?’

‘Well, that's my confidence restored again.’ 

‘Glad to be of service darling,’ her eyes were laughing.

For a while they stood in companionable silence, eyes on the painting, while the gallery next door was slowly coming to life.

Dongmin took a steadying breath. His eyes were drawn to the tiniest glint of silver peeking from underneath the collar of his red shirt.

 

……………………

 

_Leafing through his lesson plans, Dongmin was contentedly humming to himself. It was nearing lunchtime, little Ellie left an hour ago and he was almost ready with everything he needed for school next week._

_Through the closed bathroom door he could hear Bin singing in the shower, his high-pitched voice making him smile. Bin was in a unusually good mood today, giggling the whole morning and showering Dongmin’s face with kisses before be went off for a run. On the way home he sent him a picture of a massive bucket of fried chicken with a caption “Lunch for my muse!”_

_Listening to Bin’s falsetto hitting ridiculously high notes, Dongmin chuckled. He knew Bin was looking forward to start painting him after lunch - he could feel it in the brightness of his smile in the morning, he sensed it in the way his boyfriend was positively bouncing, the good mood definitely contagious as the afternoon inched nearer._

_His stomach swooped a little at the thought. It’s been a while since he sat for Bin and he felt the familiar sense of excitement creeping up his spine. He loved their sessions. The strange intimacy of it, the way he knew Bin’s eyes were drinking in the sight of him while not being able to move, or even see it sometimes – just the thought of it was making his face heat up._

_Sharply, he scooped up the sheets fanned on the table in front of him - he couldn’t focus anymore, not with the mental image of Bin, a spare paintbrush tucked behind his ear, watching him as if he was about to devour Dongmin at any moment._

_The bathroom door swung open and he startled, cheeks flushed, sending a whole stack of papers fluttering to the floor._

_‘Oh, sorry,’ Bin stopped and shot him an apologetical look from underneath his wet fringe. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’_

_‘It’s ok, you didn’t,’ Dongmin felt his face burn even more. The sight of Bin, a towel wrapped around his waist, hair wet and droplets of water dripping down his chest – it was not helping him to calm down._

_Watching the wet footprints Bin was leaving on the way to the bedroom, he crouched down to pick up the scattered pieces of paper with shaking hands. On Friday night, after the school concert, he did ‘make it up’ to Bin, exactly as he had promised. Maybe the night alone didn’t solve everything - he knew that sex was not panacea and they needed to talk at some point - but the nearly permanent tightness in his chest was now slowly lifting, making way to tentative hope. The feeling of closeness that has been so painfully missing in their life lately - it was almost there again._

_Kneeling on the floor, hands smoothing the notes, he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm down the wild thumping in his chest. Bin had not painted him for months, choosing instead to work on any unfinished work he had knocking about, seemingly in preparation for the exhibition. On the surface, Dongmin encouraged him, glad for the distraction it provided, relieved that Bin could focus on something else, rather than the distance that was slowly creeping into the space between them. Only in very rare unguarded moments Dongmin allowed himself to admit how much it hurt him._

_Bin’s withdrawal was his own making – he was painfully aware of that. Dongmin knew he had been pulling away from Bin for months, retreating into his own headspace, shutting the door of his soul in Bin’s face. At first Bin had tried, asking ever so often if everything was ok, but when Dongmin kept his answers to a bare, polite minimum – I’m fine, Binnie, just tired, busy at work - the questions died away after a while and Bin retreated, in his own way, hiding in the studio for hours._

_On the surface, their relationship didn’t change much – they still talked about mundane things over dinner, laughed at silly sitcoms they liked to watch on lazy Saturday mornings, sprawled on the sofa together, they still made love – but something shifted in the balance of their relationship and the more Dongmin tried to carry on as if nothing happened, the tighter the uncomfortable pull in his chest became._

_He stared quietly at his hands, still crouching on the floor, not seeing anything. Since Friday, for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself cautiously to hope and the feeling was heady._

_‘Could you try this on for me?’_

_Dongmin whirled around._

_Bin, in an old pair of sweatpants, chest still bare, emerged from the bedroom. In his hand, he held a red shirt._

_Dongmin straightened up and put the stack of papers back on the coffee table._

_‘Don’t,’ he laughed, embarrassment clear in his voice. ‘I was forced to wear it for the whole evening on Friday. That’s enough. I’m only putting it on when you start painting. Not while we are eating. You can’t make me.’_

_‘You didn’t complain this much on Friday when you came back home,’ Bin’s murmured, eyebrows shot up, clearly waiting for Dongmin to get flustered._

_‘That’s probably because you were ripping it off me before I even closed the door,’ Dongmin grinned back._

_Bin’s ears glowed red._

_‘This is a different one,’ he interrupted him hastily, almost breathless. ‘It’s not the school shirt. Just see if it fits.’_

_Dongmin almost said no again but something in Bin’s face stopped him._

_‘Ok,’ he whispered and took the shirt from Bin’s hand. Eyeing it more closely, he could see it was indeed a different one, the shade dark crimson, its material a heavy, liquid silk, smooth under his fingers._

_He stroked the fabric with his palm, ‘Where did you get it?’_

_‘I bought it on Friday. I could see you didn’t like the one from school - so after you left for the concert, I went shopping,’ Bin shuffled a little awkwardly, looking sheepish, ‘Will you put it on for me?’_

_‘Aw, do I need to?’ Dongmin whined, just to tease Bin a little bit more._

_‘Please? I need to see whether I got the shade right. I need to see if my favourite vampire still looks good.’ Bin grinned suddenly, his eyes holding Dongmin’s._

_Dongmin’s face grew hot but he didn’t retort. ‘Ok,’ he smiled softly. He pulled off his hoodie and slipped on the shirt. The smooth fabric stroked his skin in an oddly sensual way._

_‘Wow. I like it.’ There was admiration in Bin’s voice, in his eyes._

_‘Come, have a look.’ Holding his hand, Bin pulled him across room towards the hallway and didn’t stop until Dongmin stood in front a large mirror on the wall._

_‘What do you think?’_

_From behind, Bin sneaked his arm around Dongmin, pulling him to his chest. The fabric shifted between them, warm and smooth, barely there. He could feel Bin’s bare skin, the heat of his body seeping through the soft silky layer._

_‘Do you like it?’_

_Dongmin smiled at Bin’s reflection, ‘I do. You know I don’t really like red but this is… nice.’_

_He felt almost shy to admit that he liked what he saw. The fabric fell soft in thick folds; the dark red accentuated his pale skin with only the barest hint of a tan._

_Bin giggled, clearly pleased with himself. ‘It will be perfect. I know you wouldn’t be able to resist my taste in clothes.’_

_He started kissing Dongmin’s neck, aiming for the spot behind Dongmin’s ear, where he knew it tickled the most._

_‘Can we eat now, please?’ Dongmin chuckled and tried to wriggle out of his grasp. ‘I can see this is going to be a long session; I don’t want to starve.’_

_Bin’s lips lingered on his neck for a moment, then he let go, still laughing quietly. ‘Yeah, sure. Just take off the shirt; grease stains are not the look I will be going for.’_

_‘Yes, maestro.’_

_While Dongmin was changing, Bin brought a massive bucket of fried chicken and two bottles of beer into the living room._

_From the bedroom, Dongmin eyed the coffee table, ‘Are you trying to kill me?  If I finish that, I’ll burst.’_

_‘You’re forgetting I will be eating too,’ Bin was already reaching into the bucket and pulling out the first drumstick._

_‘Hey, in that case, leave some for me, ok?’ Dongmin sunk down next to him and pushed his hands away._

_Bin bowed deeply, grinning from ear to ear, ‘Anything for my muse. Go ahead, beautiful.’_

_Dongmin elbowed him in the ribs and reached for the bucket._

_They munched in silence, the pieces of chicken rapidly disappearing, the pile of fries diminishing with alarming speed._

_After a while, Dongmin let out a happy sigh and patted his stomach. ‘If I eat one more, the food will start coming out of my ears.’_

_Bin took a swig from his beer, burped contentedly and peered at the remnants in the bucket._

_‘Fair point, beautiful, but let’s not waste precious resources. One more.’_

_Dongmin laughed incredulously, ‘You are kidding me. I can’t.’_

_‘Come on,’ Bin fished out three pieces. ‘I’ll have these, the last one left is for you. I don’t want you to be hungry while you’re sitting for me.’_

_Dongmin rolled his eyes, ‘I can’t.’_

_‘Pleeease.’_

_Dongmin melted at the site of Bin’s mouth pursed in a cute pout. ‘Ok, but only because I’m a nice person.’_

_Bin grinned, looking very pleased, as Dongmin sighed dramatically and reached into the bucket._

_The hand still inside the red container, his face changed. ‘What is this?’_

_He pulled out a small square box, the black leather smooth under his fingers._

_Bin’s grin changed from cheeky to sheepish. ‘Open it.’_

_With shaking hands, Dongmin opened he lid. Inside, on a black velvet cushion, were two rings._

_‘Bin?’ Dongmin’s hands started shaking and he stared at the box as if it was alive._

_Bin shuffled around the coffee table, closer, until their knees were touching. He inhaled sharply and wrapped his fingers around Dongmin’s wrists._

_‘Min. Beautiful. Can you look at me? Please?’_

_Dongmin found he was scared. Scared to take his eyes away form the two bands, glistening against the darkness of the velvet._

_‘Min?’_

_His vision started to swim._

_‘Min? Please?’_

_He felt Bin’s fingers tighten a little around his hands, and slowly, he looked up. Bin’s eyes, when he met them, were soft. Soft as mornings in a sunlit bed, soft as secret smiles across a crowded room, soft as kisses just before falling asleep._

_‘Lee Dongmin, will you marry me?’_

_He started sobbing, desperate sobs, gasping for air, the answer stuck in his throat like a big lump, unable to get out._

_‘Hey,’ Bin drew him into his arms. ‘Don’t cry. Is the thought of me as a husband so horrible?’_

_He laughed between sobs, ‘You are such an idiot.’_

_‘But I am_ your _idiot. You‘re stuck with me.’ Bin’s hands were rubbing his back, gentle, soothing._

_He buried his face in Bin’s chest. ‘I want to be stuck with you,’ he mumbled into his shirt._

_Bin pulled back a little, holding Dongmin at arms length, his eyes wide, ‘Is that a yes?’_

_‘Yes,’ Dongmin blinked, giving Bin a wobbly smile. ‘Yes. Yes!’_

_Bin’s face broke up in a smile so beatific, it was like being blinded by a sun._

_The shame flooded over him, the tightness of his chest there again, amidst all the joy. ‘God, I don’t deserve you, Binnie.’_

_Bin’s eyebrows creased, ‘What are you talking about, Min? You love me; that’s all I need. Nothing else, beautiful. I want to grow old with you. I want you to be with me. Nothing else is important.’_

_The shame burning in his chest got hotter, branding him. ‘I really don’t deserve you, Binnie… I have been awful to you lately.’_

_Bin smiled a little sadly and cupped his face, thumbs sweeping at the tears, ‘No, beautiful, not awful. Just… I know you have been worried about something and you are trying to hide it. I’ve noticed. You are running away from me. I wish you would tell me.’_

_The lump in his throat grew bigger; his heart ached. Maybe it would help, maybe it would ease the constant tight feeling in his chest if he told Bin. He looked at the love of his life and saw the fine lines of worry etched into his face._

_He drew a deep breath, steeling himself. Ok, here we go._

_‘It’s about Rocky’s wedding.’_

_‘Rocky’s wedding?’ Bin’s hands on his cheeks paused momentarily, an unspoken relief in the sharp exhale of his voice._

_‘Yeah,’ Dongmin smiled and shrugged, keeping his tone purposefully light. ‘I can’t make up my mind, Binnie, and I worry because we need to book the flights soon. I just… I can't decide and it’s been on my mind for a long time. You know me,’ he forced a small laugh, ‘I over-analyse everything.’_

_He liked to think that none of the anxiety that was cruelly twisting his stomach right now showed on his face._

_I should get an Oscar for this, he thought bitterly as he gazed into Bin’s eyes that slowly filled with tears._

_‘Oh, beautiful,’ Bin sank forward and leaned his forehead onto Dongmin’s chest, his voice cracking. ‘I thought… I don’t know, really. I thought that you were hiding something. That you were offered a job in New York… or that you found out you were ill or…’_

_It didn’t even crossed Bin’s mind, Dongmin noted, to doubt Dongmin’s love. The thought filled him with so much gratitude, he almost wept._

_Despite everything, he knows I love him. He knows it._

_Dongmin carefully wrapped his arms around Bin, pulling him up a little, letting Bin’s head nest in the crook of his neck._

_‘Oh, Binnie, I love you so much,’ he whispered into his hair. ‘I’m here. I’m healthy, I swear, and I’m not going anywhere. You are not getting rid of me that easily.’_

_The joke didn’t even register on Bin’s radar; it seemed he barely heard Dongmin’s words._

_‘Or maybe,’ the shudder of his breath was hot against Dongmin’s skin, ‘I thought that maybe… you were starting to get angry with me for leaving you alone all the time. I work such long hours, I paint all the time, then it’s the dance studio, gym… I thought you were getting lonely…’_

_‘Binnie,’ Dongmin pushed away a little, tipping Bin’s face so he could see his eyes. ‘I don’t need to be with you every minute of the day to know you love me, ok? You don’t need to worry about that one. If anything, you could say the same to me. I leave you alone three nights a week to play at Carlo’s – you barely see me on those days. I would be a hypocrite to complain.’_

_Bin let out a shaky laugh, ‘Is it just the wedding then?’_

_Dongmin’s stomach gave an unpleasant lurch._

Just the wedding. 

It’s more than enough for me. 

_But he did his best to smile - a wide, genuine smile, one that would reach his eyes and reassure Bin. ‘It’s just the wedding, Binnie.’_

_Although Bin seemed relieved, the crease between his eyes brows didn’t disappeared completely._

_‘I would love you to come with me, Min – you know that, right?’_

_He could feel himself breaking into a sweat, panic constricting his throat._

_‘I… I know. I need to think about it.’_

_With superhuman effort, he forced himself to smile again, ‘But I don’t want to think about it right now. Right now, I want to look at the rings.’_

_Bin’s tense shoulders relaxed; he blushed and looked down at the little box in Dongmin’s hands._

_‘I didn’t know what to do so I bought two – for both of us. I didn’t want to buy you an engagement ring; it would feel weird. I don’t need to mark you as mine; it’s so archaic. But we can wear these and then buy a new pair when we’re getting married - or whatever you want. It’s white gold because I know you always wear silver but we can find something else if you don’t like these…’ Bin trailed off, blushing more._

_The surge of warmth flooded his whole being, easing the tension in his chest, ‘No, I don’t want anything else. I love them, Binnie. They are perfect.’_

_Bin took one of the bands out of its velvet nest and took Dongmin’s hand, the warmth of his touch comforting on his clammy skin. The ring felt alien against his finger but somehow right at the same time, as if it belonged there._

_He stretched his arm in front of him, admiring the way it glistened, reflecting the light, drawing attention to itself. A delicate motif of ivy leaves, the details intricate, was the only thing breaking its smooth surface, like a miniature fairy-tale wreath wound around his finger._

_His eyes strayed across the room to a big pot of ivy on a high shelf, the small leaves tumbling down in a dark green waterfall, like the hair of a nymph._

_My favourite plant._

_He blinked away the tears and took Bin’s hand, ‘Can I?’_

_He took the smaller band out of the box. It slid down Bin’s slim finger with ease, as if it longed to be there, as if it sensed home._

_‘Wow,’ Bin admired his hand, ‘it looks so… real.’_

_Dongmin brought Bin’s fingers to his lips. ‘It is real.’_

_‘I don’t really want to take it off and put it back in the box,’ Bin laughed, embarrassed. ‘But if we want them for the wedding, it would be weird to start wearing them now, right?’_

_Dongmin pondered the issue, his eyes on the tiny ivy leaves. Bin was right, from a practical point of view  - but he didn’t want to let go. On some subconscious level deep down he wanted to hold onto it and never let go, a tangible piece of Bin’s love touching his skin every day, with him all the time._

_‘We could wear it on a necklace,’ he frowned in thought, ‘until the wedding.’_

_‘Oh, I like that,’ Bin looked up slowly. ‘ Yes, I like that. Let’s do it.’_

_He immediately took off his necklace and slipped the ring on it. It clinked gently against a simple square pendant Dongmin got him couple of years back for his birthday._

_He put the necklace back on. ‘It feels nice. I’m wearing it but nobody needs to know. It’s like a secret.’_

_‘It can be our secret, until we decide to let people know.’ Dongmin smiled and reached under the collar of his shirt. Grandma’s necklace felt familiar under his fingers, comforting._

_He took it off and felt curiously naked without it._

_‘Wow,’ Bin breathed out. ‘I don’t think I have ever seen you without it.’_

_‘I don’t think I remember ever not wearing it since she gave it to me.’ Reluctantly, he took off the ring and let it slide down the chain, joining a small sliver cross hanging on it._

_His Grandma’s necklace._

_Dongmin’s hands shook a little as he fastened the chain around his neck again, ‘I wish you could have met her. She would have loved you. Do you remember what she wrote in her diary, the bit at the very end? ‘I wish you the freedom to love whomever you choose to love.’_

_He sighed, ‘I wonder if she knew. But she would have loved you, I’m sure about it. Not as much as I love you, Binnie, but she would have loved you. I know it.’_

_He paused, lost in thoughts, fingers absentmindedly tracing the thin thin chain along his collarbones._

_Bin’s hand went up to touch the silver cross, his look gentle, knowing, Dongmin’s memory mirrored in his eyes. Memory they didn’t need to talk about loud._

_The one memory from eight years ago that mattered._

__

_………………………_

Grandma’s diary, the worn leather smooth under his palms.

Grey dawn bleeding into the silent room.

Fingers on the silver cross in the hollow of his throat.

‘So beautiful.’

Bin hovering above him, one breath apart.

His body aching for the unknown.

Bin’s lips on his.

 

_Finally._

 


	7. Dawn

## 

Dawn

 

In the next room, the bell chimed almost in pain, as some eager prospective buyer wrenched the main door open.

‘Good grief,’ Alice rolled her eyes a little. ‘I hope they are as willing to purchase something as they’re keen to pull the door off its hinges.’

She poked her head round the corner to have a look.

It wasn’t the first customer of the day, however. It was Nicolas swooping in, looking slightly breathless, his long trench coat fanning after him in a dramatic manner.

‘Ah, good morning, _chérie_ ,’ he turned to his wife, ignoring her slight frown and lifting her hand to his lips. ‘Monsieur Lee,’ he grinned at Dongmin.

‘It’s great to see you again, Monsieur Arnaud,’ he grinned back. They always addressed each other formally, although he wasn’t quite sure why. It had started as a joke when they met for the first time, Dongmin simply liking the sound of the word ‘monsieur,’ and Nicolas found it hilarious and enthusiastically joined in.

‘I think I might have got you a first buyer, Monsieur Lee,’ he smiled, his eyes crinkling.

Alice gasped, the door and hinges instantly forgotten.‘ Who is it? You didn’t want to tell me anything, honey.’ She turned to Dongmin. ‘It was Nicolas on the phone earlier. So, tell us, who is the buyer?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t do that just yet; the buyer wishes to stay anonymous for now. A British celebrity, currently here, spending some time in his LA home. Saw the brochure at a friend’s house, one painting caught his eye. Your curiosity could be satisfied soon though; he might make an appearance tonight to see the painting in person if I think it’s worth it. That’s why I’m here, to have a look.’

‘That’s amazing!’ Dongmin breathed in awe, ‘Such great news! Which painting is he interested in?’

‘This one.’ Nicolas spun around, walked to the front of the room and faced the first painting people would see when entering the room.

“Dawn.”

‘Oh, God. It’s true then.’ Dongmin rolled his eyes, groaning slightly.

‘What?’

‘The more skin you show, the quicker the product sells.’

Nicolas roared with laughter.

Couple of employees who were rushing back and forth turned their heads but after seeing who it was they carried on with their tasks. They were used to Nicolas popping in. Charming, good looking and successful, he was well known on the West Coast art scene. Being one of the freelance art dealers in the town, he mingled freely with famous and less famous alike, and often brought the most unexpected prospective clients to galleries, WhiteSpace being no exception.  Ten years ago, curators used to roll their eyes at the sight of Nicolas breezing in with a weird looking man (or an odd looking old lady) in tow. They didn’t roll their eyes any longer. Nicolas knew his clients well, could find what they wanted without a fail and his clients were always prepared to pay for it. Whether it was down to his powers of persuasion or him picking his customers wisely nobody knew - and nobody cared. Everybody loved the sight of Nicolas breezing in now.

‘Monsieur Lee,’ Nicolas winked at Dongmin, ‘let me point out that my client is a well-known figure who genuinely loves art, with many connections and a lot of spare cash. Bin could do with an exposure like that so, please, a little more enthusiasm would be appropriate.’

‘Oh no,’ Dongmin couldn’t help but chuckling, ‘I’m very happy, of course, it’s just that this one I’m a bit embarrassed about, that’s all.’

‘Why?’ Alice frowned in surprise.

‘Well, I told you, I do show rather a lot of skin in this one.’

Nicolas let his eyes sweep over the room and came back to rest on the piece of art in front of him. He could see Dongmin’s point. The only other painting where Dongmin was missing an article of clothing was a smaller portrait towards the centre of the room where Dongmin was shirtless. Despite a lot of skin shown in both, the two pieces couldn’t be more different. Where “Morning Light” was soft and gentle, “Dawn” seemed darker, more daring, the feel almost suggestive.

Dongmin was painted sleeping on his front, head resting on his right hand, left arm trailing to the floor. The grey light from the window above the bed was casting a silvery shimmer on his bare back, emphasizing his lean muscles and the soft curve of his lower back. The bed sheets covering the lower part of his body looked as if they were about to fall down any second; the whole painting gave out a vibe a suspended animation, as a breath drawn in expectation of what was about to come.

Dongmin squirmed a little at the sight of it, ‘See, half of my ass is hanging out there for everybody to see.’

‘Darling, you look gorgeous, very pleasing to the eye, stop complaining,’ Alice gave his arm a squeeze. ‘It could be worse,’ she winked, ‘your whole ass could be hanging out there for everybody to see.’

‘Oh trust me, if Bin had anything to do with it, there would have been no sheets at all,’ he huffed.

‘Well, I’m amazed you have persuaded him otherwise, he is usually quite set in his artistic ideas, from what I’ve gathered,’ Alice cocked her head and grinned at him. ‘How did you manage to do that?’

‘Oh, I told him that given that he would be showing in the next seven years I am not having my ass naked in any of his pictures because I would die from embarrassment if they were seen in public.’

For the second time within an hour Nicolas’s laughter echoed through the gallery. ‘Why seven?’

‘Not a clue. Seven is my lucky number; I just had to come up with a figure quickly.’

‘And?’

‘He didn’t believe me, so I made it into a bet.’

‘Hmm. He clearly lost. What was the bet?’

‘That we would get matching tattoos if he lost. He is afraid of needles. And that we would go to Paris to the top of the Eiffel Tower if I lost because I’m afraid of heights. I knew he would not be able to resist a trip to Paris; we’ve never been,’ he smiled mischievously.

‘Oh my,’ Alice couldn’t contain the giggles anymore. ‘Did you get the tattoos?’

‘Hell, yes. I started researching tattoo parlours the moment I brought some of his paintings here for the first time and saw the glint in your eyes. And I made an appointment for us the same day as we booked the day of the showing. He didn’t speak to me for three days after we had them done.’

‘My God, you are cruel.’ Alice was breathless, almost doubling over with mirth. ‘And I always thought you were an angel, with that face of yours. Where did you get them? The tattoos?’

‘I’d rather not say.’

All three of them burst into laughter again.

‘That’s some story,’ Nicolas chuckled after the hilarity subsided a little. ‘I hope you won’t be too sad to be parting with a painting that clearly holds so many precious memories,’ he smirked and raised one eyebrow quizzically.

Dongmin turned back to the painting, ‘God no, that one I will not be sorry to see going. Binnie was so frustrated with it, he couldn’t get the light right, he was absolutely insufferable while painting it.’

‘Well, he did get it right in the end, didn’t he? Very much Caravaggio meets some sort of faded blue Instagram filter. I like it.’ Nicolas grew quiet, immersing himself in the swirls of greys and silvery blues in front of him, hands deep in the pockets of his coat, slightly swaying on the balls of his feet. Dongmin stood next to him, suddenly lost in thoughts. Nicholas was right, there were memories tied with the picture but they went further back in time for him.

 

_………………………_

 

_‘Why don't we just tell everyone? I'm fed up with hiding.’_

_It was Sunday night.  They were at home, watching a movie, Dongmin stretched on the sofa, one hand playing with Bin's hair, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor._

_By that point they had been living together for more than a year but Dongmin found the pretence increasingly suffocating. The way they both removed all traces of them as a couple from their apartment before any family visit, without even talking about it; the endless dodging of questions whether they were dating anybody nice; having to guard every look and gesture in public – to carry on like that was beginning to grate on his soul._

_‘Why don't we just tell everyone? I'm fed up with hiding.’_

_‘Hmm?’_

_He slid off the sofa to sit next to Bin._

_‘I said I was tired of hiding. I'm done with it. Let's tell people. I can't go on like this anymore.’_

_He could feel Bin's body tense. ‘Are you serious about it?’_

_He sighed, the weariness deep in the marrow of his bones, ‘I think I am. I've been lying to everybody for so long, pretending all the time; it's starting to get to me.’_

_‘Is it because of yesterday?’ Bin's voice was quiet, almost gentle, as if touching an open wound._

_‘Maybe.’ He felt his cheeks burn. ‘It certainly brought it home.’_

_He heard his own words coming out sharply, more defiant than he intended, but the humiliation was stinging._

_He squeezed his eyes shut, as if to erase the memory, but if was still fresh, its colours so vivid that for a moment he felt he was back in bed that sunny Saturday morning._

_…………………._

_Calm. Morning sunlight streaming through the curtains left open the night before and warming their skin. Dongmin floating on the brink of consciousness, lingering in no man’s land between asleep and awake, dimly aware of Bin pulling him closer, his body pressing against him under the sheets._

_The sound of his phone, cutting through the silence, jolting them awake._

_‘Let it ring,’ Bin breathed against his neck and tried to hold back his arm, reaching towards the bedside table._

_‘What if it’s bad news? It’s really early,’ he whispered apologetically as he leaned over to get the phone._

_The voice on the other end made him sit up so fast he nearly threw Bin off the bed. His mum outside, wanting to pop in with his father on the way from the Noyangjin fish market, bringing some fresh seafood._

_They were catapulted out of bed at a speed of light. With hindsight he thought it incredibly lucky that he had answered the call. The alternative of his parents arriving with no warning and just knocking on the door was too much to contemplate._

_Within minutes, Bin was opening the door, bowing and politely enquiring about their health, then rapidly disappearing to run some invented errand, in order to escape the awkward situation._

_Dongmin, with no such option, a crumpled T-shirt sticking to his sweaty chest, was trying to make a coherent conversation with his father, while mum was busying herself unpacking her purchases._

_…………………………_

_Just thinking about the incident made Dongmin wanting to die with embarrassment._

_‘This is as much your place as mine but you were thrown out of your own bed because of my parents, as if we were doing something wrong, as if was ashamed of you!’ he felt the anger bubbling up inside him, anger at himself._

_‘Hey, chill, ok?’ Bin's calm voice stopped him in his track, ‘I know you are not ashamed of me but I also know your father would probably skin you alive if you told him who I really was. I’m not blaming you.’_

_‘I know!’ He buried his face in his hands. ‘But I can’t go on like this, not for much longer.’_

_‘I know, Min. But please, just think about it. Are you absolutely sure? There will be no going back for you, you know that?' Bin was eyeing him anxiously. ‘I have a feeling my family would somehow survive the news. My sister certainly will; I have a feeling she guessed anyway, we just never openly talked about it. She will be fine, that’s someone who will be on my side, I hope. Your family will survive too, you may not, though,’ he looked him in the eyes with a tiny smirk._

_Against his will, Dongmin found himself chuckling. I love him so much. He felt a deep gratitude to fate, God, whatever force there was, for bringing Bin into his life._

_He held Bin’s hand, ‘Let’s go away then, let’s move to Seoul. I am a coward, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life here in Busan, being the persons non grata after we come out.’_

_‘Do you think Seoul will make much of a difference?’ Bin’s voice was sceptical, ‘l grew up there, it’s not much better than Busan.’_

_‘What about moving abroad then?’_

_‘Are you serious?’ Bin frowned, leaning closer. ‘Wouldn’t you miss your family?_

_‘I would, terribly, but you will be my family. You ARE my family. Let’s go.’_

_‘My god, you are serious.’ Bin’s voice dropped to a whisper._

_‘I am. I had enough of lying. Let’s plan it all, then tell our families just before we leave. What do you think?’_

_Bin took his hands, the look in his eyes hardened, as if something inside him finally snapped. Dongmin stilled under his gaze._

_Suddenly Bin smirked, ‘If we want to pull it off in secret, Min, we will have to lie much bigger and much better.’_

_‘I don’t mind,’ Dongmin smiled, relief flooding his whole body, ‘it will be lying with a purpose.’_

_‘Hmm.’_

_More silence ensued, making Dongmin shake with nerves. The vague idea that has only existed in his head so far was rapidly taking shape; if was almost overwhelming._

_‘You know, I’m starting to like the idea.’ Bin leaned back and looked up dreamily, as if he could see their future floating above their heads. ‘To go somewhere far away, to a big city where our lives will be nobody’s business.’_

_For a minute or two, they both sat on the floor in silence, their backs leaning on the old sofa, legs outstretched, looking at the ceiling. The free world seemed within reach, tantalizingly close._

_‘Do you know what I am going to do first when we get there, wherever that might be?’ the silence was interrupted by Bin’s voice._

_‘I am going to paint you.’_

_‘What?’ Dongmin laughed nervously, feeling his cheeks growing hot._

_Bin jumped up, unable to contain his excitement, ‘I want to paint you, the sketches are not enough anymore.’_

_‘What’s wrong with your sketches? They are beautiful.’_

_‘That’s not the point. I’ve been wanting to try something new,’ Bin spread his arms wide. ‘I want to do something big in oil.  But I need more space for that, it will take more time and you can’t hide a massive canvas.’_

_‘Why would you need to hide it?’_

_Bin crouched down in front of Dongmin and pushed his way between his legs, fixing him with an intense stare, ‘Because I doubt our families will believe you to only be my flatmate after seeing it.’_

_Dongmin felt his breath quicken._

_‘I want to paint the exact shade of your skin,’ Bin dropped on all four and leaned his forehead on Dongmin’s chest. ‘I have been carrying an image of you in my head for about six months now, if I don’t paint it at some point, I think I will explode.’_

_He lifted his head, looking into Dongmin’s eyes, ‘Will you sit for me? Or rather,’ he smirked, ‘lay down for me? I want to paint a picture of you asleep. Every time I see you in the morning, I die a little, you are so beautiful. Please, will you?’_

_‘When would you see me asleep in the morning, Mr Sleeping-till-it’s-noon,’ Dongmin couldn’t help himself and grinned in Bin’s face._

_Bin growled and moved closer, a panther with burning eyes and sleek, stealthy moves, the pleading puppy look suddenly gone._

_‘Don’t laugh at me, Min,’ his breath felt hot on Dongmin’s neck. ‘I watch you sometimes after I finished painting… when it’s almost dawn and I’m too hyped to fall asleep. As the light slowly changes your skin looks almost silver and you’re so … I don’t even know … so fucking unreal. I want THAT moment. I WANT it!’  The moan made Dongmin’s belly tight and heavy, his head so dizzy he could hardly breathe._

_‘OK.’ He laughed a little breathlessly,  ‘I will sit for you.’_

_Now I know what they mean by being swept off my feet, he thought. I’m glad I’m sitting._

_‘Aaargh!’ Bin threw himself on the floor, panting, ‘I want to start now, my God.’_

_What a dork._

 _Dongmin watched him with a smile, the oxygen levels almost back to normal._

_‘Tell you what,’ Bin sat up. ‘You are right, let’s do it. We’ll start planning now. Twelve months from now, we need to have everything ready for our move and we tell our families.’ His eyes bore into Dongmin’s, waiting, challenging._

_‘What if it doesn’t work out?’_

_‘Oh for fuck’s sake! It’s your idea and now you’re backing out? You are a true optimist, aren’t you?’_

_‘No, I mean it. What if, for some valid reason, we won’t be able to go?’_

_Bin’s expression changed, grew hard, determined, ‘Then I will paint the picture, hang it somewhere where everyone can see it and we tell them anyway. No more hiding. Deal?’_

_Dongmin’s eyes welled up. I love him._

_‘Deal.’_

_All revolutions start with a single gunshot. Every avalanche begins with a tiny handful of snow._

_Thirteen months later they were on a plane to San Francisco._

…………….........

 

 

‘Well, I can only say, it’s _magnifique_.’ Nicolas’ words brought him back to earth. ‘It’s a yes from me, so you might be getting rid of it very soon.’

‘I don’t mind. Anyway, there is another version of the painting. Bin used warm light in that one instead – and the second version hasn’t been painted at the same time, so second time round he was much less stressed. I don’t want to break up with him - the way I almost did after he finished the first one.’ The memory made him smile.

‘Oh,’ Nicolas looked up, his interest piqued. ‘The painting is not part of the exhibition though, am I right? I would have noticed it in the brochure.’

‘Well, no,’ Dongmin ducked his head, his smile shy. ‘Not that one.’

‘What?’ Nicolas was quick to read between the lines. ‘Did Bin move the sheets?’

‘He might have,’ Dongmin felt his cheeks heating up. ‘A bit.’

Alice chuckled, ‘I would like to see it.’

‘It’s at home. Come for dinner some time and Bin can show it to you.’

‘How come we didn’t see it last time we came round?’ Nicolas frowned, looking a little confused.

‘Because he only finished it yesterday – or early this morning I guess - and It’s still drying.’

Dongmin's face grew hot. He didn't mind Alice and Nicolas seeing Bin's latest painting - but talking about it felt too private. For him, it meant more than just another version of "Dawn." It was his way back to Bin; it was discarding everything - in every sense - that had been growing between them, pushing them apart.

He fell quiet, keeping the memories of the previous day to himself. The whole Friday spent shut together in the studio, Bin having shamelessly called the office pretending he was sick, and made him to do the same – although he nearly died from embarrassment, doing such a thing for the first time in his life.

The day felt like a blur of candlelight, swirls of dark, warm colours on Bin’s canvass and smell of paint; the feel of Bin’s lips on his naked skin, when he had to swat Bin away so he would reluctantly return to the easel, and Dongmin would simply grin _I didn’t play hooky so we can fuck, Binnie - keep painting, I need to leave for Carlo’s at six_.

Bin's eyes on him across the room, hungry again, focused.

Again.

‘And you would be alright for us to see it?’ Alice's voice brought him back to reality; she was eyeing him a little uncertainly. ‘You were quite adamant about the ‘no nudity rule’ for the exhibition.’

‘It's ok. You are friends, not random strangers at the gallery; this is different.’

‘Thank you, darling,’ she patted his arm.

Dongmin grinned at her, ‘Come for Sunday lunch next week  - a private viewing?’

Alice laughed, ‘We would love to. You don’t have anything on Sunday, honey?’ She turned to her husband and Nicolas shook his head.

‘Would it be ok if we brought Tommy with us? My parents are out of town, they won’t be able to have him. I will not let him to see the painting though. His six-year-old eyes are not ready yet for your bare ass.’

Dongmin supressed a laugh, ‘I promise to keep the offending piece of art under lock and key in our bedroom. But please, do come. And if Tommy’s coming as well, we could invite Jennie and she would bring Ellie along. They would keep each other entertained.’

‘That sounds great, I haven’t seen Jennie in ages.’ Alice smiled fondly. She and Jennie only met couple of times but got on like house on fire.

‘Well, she’ll be here tonight. Have a chat with her, see if she is free.’

Alice leaned to Dongmin and dropped her voice into a conspiratory whisper, ‘Is she still single? We should set her up with someone.’

‘Alice!’ Nicolas looked mildly shocked.

‘What? I haven’t used my matchmaking skills in a while now.’

Nicolas sighed. ‘You are incorrigible, darling. Stop meddling in other people’s love lives. Anyway, I shall be off now. I’ll see you tonight with my mystery buyer hopefully in tow. I’m pretty sure he’ll show up. And I’m sure it will be a successful evening.’

‘Oh, it’s so nice to hear that.’ Dongmin could hear the relief in his own voice. ‘You think Bin will do well tonight? I mean… I know he will but I’m biased so my opinion hardly counts. And he has been so stressed lately, it worries him that he hasn’t come up with anything new, anything original.’

‘Tell Bin to stop worrying,’ Nicolas slapped his arm.

‘He has a point though, doesn’t he?’ Dongmin eyed him anxiously. ‘It’s difficult to impress people nowadays. I mean, short of, say, taking a length of rope, chucking it on the floor and calling it art, everything has been done before.’

‘Actually,’ Nicolas cleared his throat, gesturing vaguely to the floor, ‘ _that_ has been done too. Seen it in London, at Tate Britain, some years back. Can’t remember the artist’s name though.’

‘You see what I mean? I can’t even come up with an original pun,’ Dongmin threw his arms in desperation. ‘I know Alice is confident he will do well. She trusts her gut feeling and I trust her. But it would be nice to have second opinion.’

‘Look,’ Nicolas fixed him with an intense stare. ‘Most people who enter a gallery want to buy something that they can bring home and that will make them feel good when they look at it. Also something they will not be ashamed to show to their friends and family.’

Dongmin frowned, ‘That’s a rather low bar, isn’t it?’

‘Hang on, I’m not finished yet.’ Nicolas held up his hand to silence him. ‘What I gave you now might have been a nice little definition of mediocrity but that was not my point. What I’m trying to say is that most people don’t give a toss about novelty concepts and things that have not been tried before. People want to buy beauty that touches their hearts. Art that has a certain something, that makes you want to cry and laugh at the same time. Bin’s work has that something. I promise you, he will be fine tonight.’

‘Thank you,’ Dongmin bowed his head slightly. ‘And I will tell Bin about the prospective buyer, he will be ecstatic.’

‘Looking forward to seeing you tonight, Monsieur Lee.’

‘The pleasure is mine, Monsieur Arnaud.’

Nicolas turned to his wife,  ‘I’ll see you at the showing, _chérie_. Hopefully plus one.’

He gave Alice a swift kiss and was gone, trench coat flapping behind him as he strode towards the door.

‘So, exciting news,’ Alice turned to him, beaming.

He smiled gratefully, ‘I know. Binnie will be so happy when I tell him. The first buy – well, maybe.’

‘Relax. I’m sure there will be plenty more tonight,’ Alice gave him a light nudge in the ribs.

Dongmin let his eyes wonder. ‘If you wanted one for yourself, which one would you choose?’

Alice didn’t hesitate a second. She turned around and starting walking towards the middle of the room.

'I don’t need to think about that; I know exactly what my pick would be. I guess I am a romantic at heart,’ she smiled at him a little sheepishly, as if admitting to a dirty little secret. 

He followed her gaze and felt the heat rising to his cheeks. 

“Morning Light.”

It was an oil painting of him sitting on an unmade bed with no shirt on, hugging his knees, his head turned away. It was beautiful, dreamy, almost impressionistic in its execution but it had been painted in the weeks after his father's phone call and all Dongmin could think of was the despair engulfing him at the time. Had it not been one of Bin's best, he would have asked him not to show it, there was too much hurt and love attached to it, it was too personal.

Alice slowed down in front of it.

'It shows how much he cares for you; it literally radiates love. You know that, don't you?' she said gently.

She was right, although she didn’t know the whole story behind it. In the awful weeks before the portrait was painted, Bin had been the most gentle and caring since they met. After that he loved him even more, if even more was possible.

‘If it wasn’t the only oil marked _not_ _for_ _sale_ ,’ she interrupted his train of thoughts, a businesswoman again, the tender moment gone, ‘I would be the first one to make an offer, it’s so stunning. You’re sure you don’t want to reconsider? I know Binnie gave it to you, he told me.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t. You know how rubbish Binnie’s presents usually are,’ he forced a light tone and was glad when he heard her snort with laughter, not noticing his voice breaking a little.

‘This was by far the most beautiful present he ever gave me. If I sold it, it would break his heart.’

‘You are so savage, darling, I’m glad he didn’t hear you there, dissing his other presents, but do as you wish. I might go for the latest one then.’

She turned and appraised “The Secret” one more time. ‘Not for myself, it’s a little too dark for my taste, but for the gallery. People would lap it up.’

Dongmin shook his head and chuckled at Alice’s greedy gaze.

‘I better get going, thank you for showing me around. I just wanted to see it all on my own first, to get used to it,’ he smiled almost apologetically.

‘Go, you gorgeous creature. If only I could paint, you would be sitting for me every day. Preferably in the nude, without that sheet,’ she winked at him.

He threw his head back in laughter, then bent down to kiss her cheek.

‘Thanks for everything,’ he gestured around. ‘It will look great tonight. Now I’d better go and wake up our artist.’

‘Make sure he gets here on time, will you?’

‘I promise. I will even make sure he is wearing matching shoes and socks.’

 

 

 


	8. Freedom

 

## 

Freedom

_The furniture in his father’s study was heavy teak, the walls painted a rich red, covered in old family photos. Dongmin shivered a little; the tall shelves full of books were encircling him like looming towers, the colours oppressively intense._

_He would have preferred to talk to his father in the small, crammed office at the back of the restaurant, sitting on the comfortable bench with its worn orange cushions, surrounded by white bookshelves stuffed with colourful folders and peppered with his mum’s post-it-notes.  It would have been easier to listen to the background noise of sizzling pans and hurrying footsteps, the voices of Seokjin and Jinjin arguing about the choice of dessert for the next day in between the shouting for the dishes to be taken out._

_Here, in the heavy silence of the large, stuffed room, there was nothing to distract him from the tense silence._

_‘I feel like I am indulging your whims, Dongmin,’ his father looked at him icily. ‘Gaining experience and improving your English? It sounds like a lot of nonsense to me. There are perfectly decent schools in Seoul, prestigious schools you could have applied for. Instead, you are going to be teaching in an American slum. You, out of all people.’_

_Dongmin gripped the armrests of his chair so tightly his knuckles turned white._

_‘I’m sorry, Dad. I still think it is a good idea though. The experience will give me a big advantage when I come back and start applying for jobs here.’_

_‘But you already have a job! And a good one, at a good school. You have only been there for a year - why are you throwing it all away for… for that?’_

_‘I didn’t want to pass up such an opportunity. Do you understand that, Dad?’_

_‘Yes, yes,’ his father waved his hand dismissively. ‘Someone heard you playing, you got talking, turns out he is the head of some God-forsaken school – of course he would offer you an interview on the spot, even on your holiday – there were probably no other applicants.’_

_Dongmin’s stomach churned at the disdain in his father’s voice but he fought the urge to defend himself. This was a lie, carefully constructed and honed since their return from San Francisco a month ago, where him and Bin spent a week, ostensibly on holiday. The break was an extravagant birthday present for both of them – thank God their birthdays were only two months apart, he thought - to which both families contributed._

_At first, Dongmin felt bad about their deceit. During the family birthday party, after thanking everybody profusely for their generosity and talking about a ‘dream holiday come true,’ he had to disappear outside and wait until his breathing had calmed down.  Only then he could go back and face his relatives and their questions about what they were going to see and whether they booked their tickets for Alcatraz already._

_As the evening progressed, the lies fell more easily from his lips and a couple of days later the sense of shame disappeared altogether and excitement set in. Their clandestine holiday wasn’t to be a holiday at all. In the week they were in San Francisco, both of them had several job interviews lined up._

_After their return, the hurt of not being able to share the news with anyone was almost physical. With both of them having found a job but unable to tell anyone about it, Dongmin thought he would burst. However, as the weeks passed – and after they quietly told some of their friends – the reality of harbouring a secret while carrying on with one's life gradually became more bearable._

_Right now, after a month of pretending, he almost convinced himself that it was all true – that the job offer was fruit of some fateful cosmic coincidence combined with his irresistible charm – and he took a deep breath and braced himself for more of his father’s wrath, stomach quivering with the sick feeling of it._

_But his father only shook his head in resignation and the disappointment oozing from the gesture cut Dongmin deeper than his anger._

_‘Once you’re there and have opened a bank account, I will transfer some money for you to start with until you get your first pay. Nobody will say that the Lee family has left one of their sons starve – even if you deserve it. After that, you are on your own; I will not support your silly ideas.'_

_‘Thank you, Dad,’ he swallowed the invisible tears._

_‘I’d rather you showed your gratitude by being more involved in the family business from time to time. But that’s a dream we gave up a long time ago, didn’t we?’_

_‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ whispered Dongmin, not daring to blink. The tears were getting dangerously close to becoming visible and_ that _humiliation he could do without._

_The contempt in his father’s voice was new. Or resurrected rather, from underneath the thin veneer of pride at his son’s stellar grades at university; Dongmin knew it was his decision to become a teacher rather than a virtuoso that disappointed his father deeply. His planned move to San Francisco only rubbed salt into the wound._

_His father touched his forehead wearily, ‘Oh, just go.’_

_Dongmin gulped and stood up. He left the room without a word, closing the door quietly behind him._

_His mum peaked from the kitchen, her face flushed from the heat._

_‘My boy,’ she reached out and touched his cheek gently. ‘Did you speak to your father?’_

_‘Yes, Mum,’ he kept his eyes down, desperate for his mother not to see his red-rimmed eyes but her hand was persistent, gently tipping his face so he finally looked her in the eye._

_She knew better than to comment on the state he was in. They both had learned over the years to acknowledge what was going on without talking about it; a look was enough, a gentle touch, her palm cupping his cheek in a wordless exchange._

_‘Did your father tell you about the money?’_

_‘He did.’ Dongmin knew it was probably his mum’s idea; he wouldn’t be surprised if she had to convince his dad to even consider it. ‘Thank you, Mum.’_

_‘He loves you, you know,’ a hint of a small, sad smile, ‘in his own way. He cares.’_

_‘I know, Mum,’ Dongmin sighed. They had this discussion before, many times. ‘I know he does. In his own way.’_

_‘I still don’t understand why you’re leaving, baby. You’ve just started teaching; it’s a really nice school. You should have stayed for a bit longer; it would have looked better on your resume.’_

_‘I know, Mum. But it was such a coincidence; such a chance – I simply couldn’t let it go.’_

_He ached to tell her the truth but he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t._

_Not yet._

_So lying it was – and it was getting easier, he was getting smoother, better at it. This time it didn’t even feel alien._

_His mother sighed a little, ‘I know it’s a great opportunity, baby. Still a shame though. But I’m glad Bin decided to go as well. It will be so much nicer to have someone with you once you’re there. He is a good friend.’_

_‘He is, Mum,’ the knot in his stomach tightened but he kept his face smooth and perfectly expressionless._

_‘Are you staying for dinner?’_

_‘I can’t,’ he smiled apologetically. ‘I’m playing tonight.’_

_Her face fell a little, ‘Of course, my love. Do you want to come for dinner on Monday?’_

_‘I will.’_

_‘And tell Bin to come along. We haven’t seen him in ages.’_

_‘He’s been busy at work,’ there was a lump in his throat now, constricting his breathing. ‘But I will bring him.’_

_Dongmin couldn’t tell his mum that since San Francisco Bin avoided coming along to see the Lee family with him and he felt rather relieved by it. Their lie was getting bigger by the day and sometimes it was easier not to face it together, not having to watch not only their words but also every single gesture and glance in each other’s direction._

_But maybe one time won’t hurt._

_‘We’ll come on Monday, ‘ he kissed his mum’s cheek. ‘I have to go.’_

_‘Take care, my boy.’_

_‘I love you, Mum,’ the words felt strange; he never really told his parents he loved them – but he had a sinking feeling he might not have the opportunity to do so for too long._

_………………………….._

_‘Why are you leaving, Dongmin?’_

_His former mentor was watching him benignly, twirling a pen in his fingers. The pale spring sun was streaming through the windows, casting its rays on the shelves heavy with books and sheets of music.  The cluttered office has not changed much since Dongmin graduated a year ago._

_‘I want to be myself, Professor Kim.’_

_He felt the older man’s gaze, not angry or disappointed, merely curious._

_‘I have to say your decision has surprised me – and your answer is not making a lot of sense, if you forgive an old man for being blunt with you.’_

_Dongmin sank a little deeper in his chair. He was starting to regret the idea of having written to his favourite teacher, telling him about his plans to leave for San Francisco in a couple of months. His intention was to express gratitude for Professor Kim’s support over the years and to say his goodbyes. He didn’t expect to be summoned by the old man to see him before he left._

_He squirmed a little uneasily but didn’t dare to fob off his former tutor with a lie; the man knew him too well._

_‘You were by far my most gifted student for a long time, Dongmin. I probably never told you that – no need to foster vanity and arrogance at a young age – but you were. It hurt me when you decided to eschew the fame of world stages - which you could have achieved if you went into classical music. But you hated performing for big crowds and you were a stubborn boy. I tried to push you but in the end I saw it made you really unhappy. That’s why I supported you when, after graduating, you decided to go into teaching and chose clubs and Gershwin rather than touring the world playing Rachmaninoff.’_

_‘And I’m very grateful, Professor.’_

_‘You should be. Helping to persuade your father to accept your decision was no mean feat. So tell me, Dongmin, what is it that is making you to run away – because I have a feeling that you are running – when right now you have everything you wished for. You have a job you chose; you teach kids during the day and play piano every night, in dingy clubs where people can barely see your face while you’re performing; despite being so young, you are the new darling of the retro jazz scene. You are becoming everything you have ever wanted.’_

_He leaned closer, piercing Dongmin with a direct gaze, ‘Why are you running away from your life, my boy?’_

_Dongmin swallowed uneasily. His teacher’s eyes were on him, inquisitive and expectant, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. To explain, to tell the truth, would have unleashed something he wasn’t ready to face yet._

_After a long beat of silence, the professor merely sighed and leaned back in his chair._

_‘Don’t worry about it. I guess some questions are more difficult to answer than the others.’_

_Rubbing his hands together, as if trying to warm them up, the old man’s face softened._

_‘In your letter you told me you got a teaching post in Oakland starting in August. I made some enquiries amongst my friends in San Francisco and know it’s a school in one of the tough neighbourhoods. If you do well, it will be a testimony to your skills and perseverance. But once you decide to move on, another reference would be beneficial. I have a proposition.’_

_Eyebrows knitted in confusion, Dongmin listened silently._

_‘A friend of a friend runs a very successful youth summer camp in the Yosemite National Park near San Francisco. I pulled some strings and if you were interested you could work there in July as the resident camp pianist. They always have someone to accompany the children when they sing – and for general entertainment.’_

_Professor Kim cracked his knuckles and smiled. ‘I appreciate you might have different plans for your first month there but it’s merely an idea. I know it doesn’t sound very glamorous – and the pay certainly isn’t, these positions are meant for foreign students wanting to improve their English and earn some pocket money  - but for you it would mean more. Mr Werner has friends sitting on boards of various private schools in San Francisco. His reference would carry a certain weight.’_

_Dongmin listened carefully. Measly paid or not, he knew him and Bin would have very little money at the beginning. Relying on his father for support during the first moth of their free life left an especially bitter aftertaste every time he was thinking about it – hence he felt tempted by the offer. On the other hand, accepting help from someone else didn’t feel exactly right either. It didn’t feel like cutting the umbilical cord at all._

_But in this case he would be earning the money himself._

_He groaned inwardly, exasperated by his own inability to decide._

_Professor Kim was watching him like a fox and something in his eyes made Dongmin bristle._

_Suddenly the desire to prove himself, without anyone's help, was too strong._

 _‘I really appreciate your help, Professor Kim, but I would prefer – should I be looking for a new post – to be able to do it myself,‘ he blurted out, then froze, horrified at his own rudeness._

_To his immense relief, the old man only shook his head and chuckled good-naturedly._

_‘Young man… Let me tell you something about how this really works. It’s not about being the best person for the job. It’s not even about convincing people you are the best person for the job – it’s about being given the opportunity to convince them. Let me make the opportunity a little more likely  - the rest will be up to you. Give it a go if you’re free in July. And one more thing. There is a celebration on the last day and the chldren's families are invited; many of them are influential. If you get noticed, it will not hurt.’_

_Dongmin slowly relented. Having swallowed his pride, he could see the potential; he knew Professor Kim was right. After thanking him profusely, he went home and dutifully filled in all the forms and applied for the position._

_Bin did his best to alleviate his unease._

_‘You will be fine, gorgeous. It’s only three weeks, that’s nothing.’_

_“But I would have to leave for the camp the next day after we arrived; I don’t want to. I don’t want to leave you alone straightaway.’_

_Bin smiled, ‘I’ll manage. Before you know it, you’ll be back. I might be able to visit you, ‘ he added a little more uncertainly and Dongmin’s heart bled, reading between the lines and seeing how terrified Bin looked at the prospect of being alone for three weeks barely a day after setting foot in a foreign country._

_‘Do you think I should do it?’_

_‘Yes, I do. We can't really be picky – and we shouldn’t rely too much on your Dad’s money to keep us alive for the first month.’_

_………………………….._

_The air hung stale and hot above the crowd, almost thick, making it hard to breathe. The loud music filled the space in pounding, heavy waves, drowning out all other sounds._

_Trying to get back to their table, Jinjin was pushing his way through the swarm of people, arms with several soju bottles raised above his head._

_‘Hyung,’ Bin grinned at him, ‘you nearly got trampled to death. Next time we need to send someone tall, you know.’_

_The bottles clanked heavily against the table and Jinjin threw an unimpressed look in his direction. He poured the shots and thrust one into Bin’s hands, ‘Shut up and take this.’_

_‘To freedom!’_

_‘To America!’_

_Dongmin’s blushed cheeks were rivalling the red of Rocky’s t-shirt and his head was buzzing. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Bin watching him but he downed his drink quickly, a defiant gesture._

_‘To new beginnings, baby.’_

_He ignored Bin’s worried look and turned to Jinjin instead._

_‘I will miss you. You need to start a cooking vlog or something. You know, food porn. I still want to be dissing all your new recipes, even if I’m thousand miles away.'_

_Jinjin threw his hands around Dongmin’s shoulders and chuckled, ‘I cook for a living, Min; I don’t have time for fancy videos. And very soon I will have even less time; Jin is leaving in about three months and wants me to be the new chef.’_

_‘Wow. Congratulations! I… I didn’t know,’ Dongmin felt bad about not having an idea what was going on in the life of his best friend._

_‘No, you wouldn’t, you hardly ever show up at the restaurant anymore,’ the shrug of Jinjin’s shoulders was pragmatic, almost cold._

_‘I’m sorry,’ whispered Dongmin, ‘I have been so self-centred lately… it’s not an excuse, I know…’_

_‘Oh, just shush,’ Jinjin eyes creased as he laughed out loud. ‘I’m just messing with your head –  I know you and Bin had other things to worry about in the last couple of months. And besides, Jin only told me about three weeks ago and we didn’t want to mention it to anybody until we spoke to your parents. They agree – so you are looking at the future chef at the Saltwater Room!’_

_‘You idiot,’ Dongmin breathed in relief. ‘I’m so happy for you; you deserve it. But why is Jin leaving?’_

_‘He wants to open his own restaurant.’_

_‘Good for him. When we come to visit, we’ll go and compare his and your food. We can diss you both then,’ he grinned into Jinjin’s face, ignoring the cold twist in his stomach._

_There will be no visits._

_‘There will be nothing to diss, you uncultured barbarian who thinks that kimchi is the peak of fine cuisine.’_

_‘What’s wrong with kimchi?’ Rocky leaned over from where he was laughing at something Sanha was telling him and Bin. ‘Stop badmouthing the best thing under the sun after morning sex.’_

_‘Shut up, Rocky,’ Sanha rolled his eyes. ‘If you rub it in my face again that you and Songyi are still at it like rabbits even after all this time, I will take away your Nintendo Switch so you won’t be able to play The Legend of Zelda. I’m sure Songyi will thank me for that.’_

_‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ Rocky’s triumphant grin said it all. ‘She is trying to do a speed run and beat her personal best right now. She might beat you up if you take it away from us.’_

_‘I love a strong woman,’ MJ sighed dreamily. ‘So sexy.’_

_Sanha chuckled next him and poked his arm, ‘If you exercise more, hyung, you will become one. Don’t lose hope.’_

_‘Don’t make fun of my boss,’ Bin laughed out loud and smacked Sanha on his head._

_‘Your soon-to-be-ex-boss,’ MJ looked at him pointedly, eyebrows arched. ‘I still can't believe you’re leaving us. And advertising? What a travesty! To leave the beautiful world of interior design for bloody advertising. You will be thinking of pictures of cleaning products and cereal brands - how thrilling.’_

_Bin reddened, ‘It’s a beginning, hyung. It’s not gonna be forever.’_

_‘I know,’ MJ sobered up. ‘Sorry, that was uncalled for. And you will get far – you have an eye for beauty. I bet the company will be producing the most visually stunning corn flakes adverts America has ever seen once you join.’_

_Bin’s laugh rang high and breezy, the mood lightening again, “Thank you, hyung.’_

_Dongmin startled as Rocky suddenly slid into the booth next to him. He tore his eyes away from Bin, laughing and beautiful, the innocent softness of his face not hardened yet by things that have been set in motion by now._

_‘What?’_

_Rocky followed his gaze, watching MJ and Bin giggling at something, heads together, no doubt making fun of certain American brands._

_‘Look after him for me, ok? He has not idea what he’s doing.’_

_Dongmin frowned a little, ‘How do you know what we are doing? We hardly know what we are doing ourselves.’_

_‘I don’t,’ Rocky shrugged with a gently smile. ‘But I can't imagine being without my family, without my Mum – and you guys are gonna do just that.'_

_After heartbeat of silence, Dongmin swallowed hard, his breath suddenly shorter. ‘I will. I will look after him.’_

_As if sensing the need to stir the conversation somewhere else, someplace lighter, MJ looked up from whatever he was showing Bin on his phone and grinned at Dongmin.‘I still can't believe you pulled this off. You posted so many pictures; how did you even make it look like a proper holiday?’_

_Dongmin shrugged, ‘Well, we did some sightseeing – we just had to cram it into two days. Or day and a half, really.’_

_‘I’m impressed, ‘Myungjun breathed. ‘I never thought you would have it in you, to lie so perfectly; you are such a blushing virgin when it comes to deception.'_

_Something rose in Dongmin’s throat, a thick, bitter taste._

_Deception was his middle name now._

_…………………_

_The had made sure not to give themselves away during their week in San Francisco, perfecting the illusion of carefree fun._

_On the last day before their flight home, they attacked the city with a plan worked out with military precision. He knew exactly what they wanted to see and crammed their day full. They climbed the famous serpent-like Lombard Street, walked along the Pier 39, visited the Coit Tower and took countless pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge._

_‘There,’ Bin sat hunched on a bench, fiddling with his phone. Golden Gate Bridge in front of them was slowly changing, the colours mellowing as the sun was sinking lower, casting a reddish glow over the horizon.‘All posted. Now it looks like we were on a real holiday. I even apologised for not posting, saying we were too busy.’_

_‘Liar,’ Enjoying the vista, Dongmin stretched his aching legs in front of him, running his fingers up and down Bin’s back._

_‘Liar yourself,’ Bin grinned at him over his shoulder, then scooted closer, cuddling into Dongmin’s side._

_‘What do you want to do now?’ Dongmin leaned over and planted a kiss on Bin’s ear. ‘We’ve done everything we needed to do; we should celebrate.’ He buried his nose in Bin’s hair and inhaled._

_‘Let’s go to Sausalito before it gets dark,’ Bin snuggled closer. ‘We are on the right side of the Bay and I’ve heard it’s really pretty.’_

_‘Sounds good.’_

_…..……….......……_

_Walking aimlessly through the streets of Sausalito, admiring its many little houseboats with their colourful walls and round windows looking like portholes, they finally allowed themselves to be sucked into the atmosphere of liberty and fun._

_After devouring burgers of gargantuan proportions and copious amounts of fries, they wandered about in the harbour, watching the long rows of mooring yachts._

_‘We’re gonna live here soon, Binnie. It’s happening! We did it!’ Just the thought of it made Dongmin dizzy._

_‘Congratulations on your new job, teacher.’ Binnie poked his side, grinning._

_The feeling of joy was so intoxicating; he couldn’t contain it anymore. ‘Give me your hand.’_

_‘What?’ Bin was laughing a little, a cute embarrassed giggle._

_‘I want to hold your hand,’ Dongmin locked his fingers with Bin’s and started swinging their hands as they were walking along the pier._

_‘See? Nobody is staring!’_

_He picked up the pace, tugging Bin behind him, ‘Come on!’_

_They ran, weaving amongst startled passers-by, breathless, drunk on happiness._

_Dongmin spotted a bench near the pier, empty, inviting._

_‘To that bench? Whoever loses is buying ice cream!’_

_Not waiting, he sprinted away, as fast as he could. Bin laughed out loud and followed._

_It was almost a tie; they reached the bench at the same time but Dongmin shamelessly pushed Bin aside and plopped down triumphanly, panting hard._

_‘I won!’ he threw his head back in laughter and spread his arms wide._

_Next to him, Bin drew a sharp breath, ‘Can you stay like that?’_

_‘What?’ she squinted at Bin who was pulling the phone out of his pocket._

_‘Don’t move, Min,’ Bin laughed and aimed the camera at him. ‘I need to immortalise this moment.’_

_‘Jesus, Binnie, my neck will kill me.’ He knew better than to protest too much though and froze obligingly as Bin took several shots._

_‘Be glad I’m not painting you like this,’ Bin stuffed the phone back in his pocket and extended his hand. ‘All done, beautiful. Now I need a kiss because I’m a sorry loser.’_

_Dongmin giggled and stood up. He wound his arms around Bin’s waist, ‘You are a sorry loser but I love you.’_

_…......…….......……_

_‘One more, Min, come on. To freedom,’ Jinjin handed him another shot._

_Dongmin gripped the glass with an unsteady hand. The room felt too hot. Dozens of tiny hammers were pounding inside his skull; everything was swaying a little._

_‘I… I can't. Sorry,’ he put the drink down and walked away._

_Pushing past people, roughly, hurriedly, he left the crowded room. In a narrow, dark corridor outside, a groupe of peple stood in front of the toilets. Squeezing past, murmuring a hasty 'excuse me', he barged through the door. A young man, wiping his hands, looked up, startled at the sound of the door hitting the wall.  Seizing Dongmin up and down, he hesitated for a moment, as if contemplating whether to ask him if he was ok. Something in  Dongmin's face must have made him change his mind, however, because he shrugged suddenly, tossed away the paper towel he was holding and walked out without a word._

_With the room being mercifully empty, Dongmin exhaled. Away from the pounding noise and suffocating air, he leaned his forehead against the cool tiles. The harsh light hurt his eyes but anything was better than the feeling of the dark walls of the club closing in on him._

_He shut his eyes and waited for the queasiness to subside._

_Breathe._

_The feeling of sickness went away after a while but images from that morning were finding their way inside his head again, dangerous, threatening, nauseating._

_He could sense the anger swelling; anger and despair – it was hard to tell which one was worst._

_Breathe._

_Fingers splayed against the coldness of the wall, he braced himself to open his eyes, to go back._

_Breathe._

_The door creaked and he heard a familiar voice._

_‘Min, are you ok?’_

_Bin was blinking in the harsh florescent light, watching him, expression worried._

_‘Are you feeling sick?’ Bin’s hands found his shoulders, soothing, gentle._

_The closeness of Bin’s body was comforting and Dongmin turned around and grabbed him like a drowning man grasps a raft while being dragged through the rapids._

_He buried his face in Bin’s hair, inhaled the achingly familiar scent of his skin and felt like crying._

_‘Binnie,’ his whisper echoed strangely in the space._

_‘You ok, Min?’_

_‘No.’_

_‘I'm so sorry about today-‘_

_‘Shh,’ he pressed a finger to Bin’s lips. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’_

_‘But-‘_

_‘Nope,’ he shook his head, afraid the anger and helplessness that were bubbling under the surface like hot lava would spill over any second. ‘I. Don’t. Want. To. Talk. About. It.’_

_He slid his hands under Bin’s shirt, pushing it up, felt the familiar ridges and bumps of his ribcage._

_‘I want you so much.’_

_Bin’s body under his palms, a living, breathing anchor amidst the wreckage his life became earlier that morning._

_Bin’s breath quickened but he arched away a little, ‘Min. Maybe… Not here.’_

_Dongmin silenced him with a kiss._

_The had shared kisses before. The tender ones, hesitant and sweet, beginnings of something barely there. The hungry ones where lips were almost not enough and kissing felt like devouring each other in their entirety, body and soul. The mundane, everyday pecks, quick ‘I-love-you’ messages, beautiful in their plainness._

_But Dongmin had never kissed out of sheer desperation, out of the need to cling to Bin as his last haven, the very last place where he felt he belonged. He had never kissed out of anger and despair - but he was doing it now._

_‘Guys, not here.’_

_He snatched his hands away and Bin yanked his shirt down._

_Jinwoo was standing in the door, frowning a little, ‘Come on, you’ve been here long enough. This is not the place, ok? Somebody might see you.’_

_Suddenly, the anger was back again. ‘And? They would finally see what kind of sick, disgusting person I am.’_

_His voice was low, words coming out curiously flat, but best friend flinched as if he had been whipped, ‘Min! Jeez, what’s going on?’_

_He couldn’t see Jinjin anymore; tears sprung hot and stinging in his eyes, blurring his vision. Pushing Bin away, he sunk to the floor._

_Bin’s quiet whisper was floating above his head, strangely detached, as if it had nothing to do with him, crouching in the corner; he was just a spectator, a listener._

_‘Bin, what the hell is going on? He is not just drunk, what is it?’ Jinjin’s voice was cracking with worry._

_‘His dad threw him out.’_

_‘What the fuck?’_

_‘We went to see his parents this morning,’ Bin’s voice was hesitant, as if unsure how to phrase what was coming. ‘You know, to tell them… about us. We’ve been putting if off for a long time; Min was scared. Turns out he had a good reason to be.’_

_‘Oh god, Dongmin, I’m so so sorry,’ Jinjin crouched down in front of him and took his hands. “Why didn’t you tell us tonight?’_

_‘And what would you do, hyung? What the fuck would you do to change it?’ His voice, raised and sharp, reverberated through the room, bouncing off the sterile-looking tiled walls._

_‘Shh, beautiful. Look at me,’ Bin sunk to his knees next to Jinjin, cupping Dongmin’s cheek. ‘Let’s get you home.’_

_‘But that’s the point, Binnie, that’s the fucking point; I don’t have a home!’_

_Bin’s hand froze._

_‘That’s not true, Min,’ his voice wobbled a little. ‘You have a home. With me. Our home.’_

_Dongmin looked up. Bin’s eyes were welling up, his face hurt, but his tone has not changed; his hand was still softly cradling Dongmin’s cheek. The sight sobered him up, the anger dissipating rapidly._

_‘I'm sorry, Binnie,’ he covered Bin’s hand with his own. “I just… I can’t believe…’ the rest of his words dissolved in sobs._

_The door behind their backs opened a crack but Jinjin spun around with a speed of a trained assassin._

_‘Get out,’ he ordered the unlucky soul who was trying to come in. They must have read in his face that arguing would be futile and backed out of the room without a word._

_Jinjin slammed the door shut._

_Dongmin saw them glance at each other, an almost imperceptible exchange, before they both reached for him and pulled him up._

_‘Let’s go home, beautiful, ok? Let’s get you home.’_

_Arms slung over their shoulders, Dongmin felt like the whole room was spinning with him._

_‘What am I gonna do?’_

_Bin’s arm was around his waist, steadying, firm. Dongmin feared if Bin let go, he would fall apart, break into thousand little glassy shards and simply disappear, turning into nothing, weightless and uprooted, belonging nowhere._

_‘I have no family anymore, guys,’ he started sobbing again, ashamed how utterly he fell into pieces. ‘No dad, no mum, no brother. No nothing.’_

_‘You have us, Minnie,’ Bin pressed his lips against his temple. ‘Me and Jinjin and MJ. Rocky and Sanha. We are here.’_

_He let himself being led outside like a marionette, with no will of his own._

_A puppet. A doll._

_Empty._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> This chapter was for all those who, at some point in their lives, chose to sacrifice their home for freedom - for themselves or for their loved ones.
> 
> For G.


	9. Alone

 

## 

Alone

Outside the gallery again, a gentle breeze ruffled his hair as he started walking. The street was busy, people milling around, tourists and locals alike; the sun shone, its rays growing more powerful, more scorching as the morning rolled slowly towards mid-day.

****

He rounded the corner, turning left into a small side street. There was a a tiny bakery there, offering mediocre coffee but selling bagels Bin loved.

Inside, the queue was mercifully short. He didn’t need to think about his choice; it was always the same. Grabbing the still warm paper bag and smiling at the girl who served him, he greedily inhaled the sweet scent of cinnamon and raisins as he headed outside.

****

Even after five years in the States, he never took this for granted, the ease with which he was now able to whip out a piece of plastic and indulge his everyday little whims, to buy food the moment he felt like it, the moment his mouth begun to water. It felt a far cry from what their life had been like that first summer but Dongmin made himself to remember. To be grateful.

……………………

****

****

_‘How are you feeling?’_

****

_Bin was standing next to the bed, a glass of water in his hand._

****

_‘I’ve been better,’ Dongmin swallowed and blinked blearily against the light pouring in through the windows. His head throbbed violently; the inside of his throat felt like sandpaper and the world was still spinning a little._

_Sitting down, Bin handed him the glass and two pills, ‘You look like shit, beautiful.’_

_Dongmin reached for the water. ‘That’s a contradiction in itself,’ he smiled weakly but stopped immediately – even smiling hurt._

****

_‘Thanks,’ he whispered hoarsely. He swallowed the painkillers and sunk back into the pillows._

_Bin took his hand, eyes cautious.’ How are you feeling? I mean, apart from pretty rough, obviously.’_

****

_The question was there, unspoken, hanging in the air._

****

_Closing his eyes, Dongmin tried to feel inside his soul but found it strangely empty._

****

_‘I don’t really know,’ he sighed wearily. ‘Considering that my parents disowned me yesterday, I feel strangely detached. Maybe it’s the hangover. Maybe my head can't handle both.’_

_‘Maybe,’ Bin squeezed his hand and smiled._

_Dongmin peeled off the covers and patted weakly on the bed. ‘Come here.’_

****

_‘I… I should start packing the things that need to go into storage,’ Bin eyed him a little uncertainly. ‘We don’t have much time left. I know your mum had said she would come and give us a hand but that was before…’ he trailed off miserably._

****

_Weariness was spreading in his bones like a dark, thick cloud. He found he couldn’t face the world. Not yet._

****

_‘Just for five minutes. Please.’_

****

_Bin eyed him for a moment, then nodded and climbed into bed._

****

_Dongmin curled up in a ball and let himself be enveloped by Bin’s warmth._

****

_‘Thank you for yesterday.’ He was glad he could press his face against Bin’s t-shirt and didn’t need to look him in the eye. ‘I'm sorry I was so dramatic.’_

****

_‘It’s…it’s ok,’ Bin hugged him tighter to his chest. ‘I’m so sorry about what happened. I never thought your parents would, you know, be ok with the news – never expected that – but… I didn’t think they would throw you out. I’m so sorry. I know it probably means nothing to you right now but I’m here. Always. I love you, Min, I love you so much.’_

****

_Tears started stinging his eyes. ‘I know, Binnie. I love you too. You are all I have now.’_

****

_‘No, beautiful. You have all of us – Jinjin, Dahyun and Rocky. Sanha and MJ. You are not alone. Even Sua is on our side.’_

****

_Dongmin remembered the warm smile Bin’s sister gave them both when Bin broke the news to his family couple of days ago._

****

_He smiled thinly into Bin’s shirt. ‘I’m glad at least one person in both our families was genuinely, truly happy for us.’_

****

_The familiar scent of Bin’s skin was soothing his sore head and frayed nerves and he felt himself drifting back to sleep, when a horrifying thought made his blood freeze._

****

_He sat up abruptly._

_‘Shit, Binnie, how we’re gonna manage?’_

****

_‘What… what do you mean?’ Bin eyed him uncertainly, scrambling to sit up._

****

_‘I didn’t tell you yesterday… And then I forgot… When we were leaving my parents and you were already out of the door my dad delivered the final blow,’ Dongmin’s voice was bitter. ‘The money he promised to deposit in my US account – you know, to tie us over the first month until we get paid – he said I could forget it. That he is not gonna support my deprived lifestyle.’_

****

_‘Fuck.’ Bin was watching him, a look of panic in his eyes. Dongmin didn’t need to tell him how bad this was. Their savings were depleted as it were with the cost of flights and the money set aside for a deposit and the first month’s rent on an apartment they had yet to find._

****

_‘I know! What are we going to do, Binnie? We need that money!’ he buried his head in his hands and groaned._

_Bin scooted closer on the rumpled sheets, ‘Calm down. We’ll figure out something. We’ll just have to find somewhere really cheap to live.’_

****

………………………..

****

****

_Finding somewhere to live on their reduced budget, it turned out, was a lot more difficult than it sounded._

_As days slid by at an alarming speed, they looked through hundreds of ads, letting go of many of their criteria, holding onto the last remaining one – cheap._

_‘This is all my fault, Binnie,’ Dongmin rubbed his eyes, stinging from hours of looking at the computer screen. It was two o’clock in the morning. Outside, rain was lashing against the windows, making the mood in the room even gloomier._

****

_‘What are you talking about?’ Bin closed another website and turned to face him. ‘What’s your fault?’_

****

_‘All this,’ Dongmin stopped trying to hide the dejection in his voice. ‘I shouldn’t have been so stupid; I knew something like this would happen. We should have kept lying; it would have made everything much easier.’_

****

_‘Maybe,’ Bin smiled a little, ‘but it’s done now. Don’t worry, we’ll figure out something.’_

****

_‘But that’s the thing, Binnie, what if we don’t!’ panic rose in Dongmin’s chest. ‘We are leaving in one week’s time; we need somewhere to stay! We might have to use up all our money and there will be nothing left, not even for food.’_

****

_‘Let’s do it then! We can't be homeless; let’s find something close to where we work so we won’t spend much money travelling. Let’s worry about food later.’_

****

_‘Do you think you could ask Mr Winters to pay you after the first week?’ asked Dongmin tentatively._

****

_‘Might be worth a try. God, it will be so embarrassing,’ groaned Bin but Dongmin could feel the tiniest hint of relief in his voice at the prospect of having some money one week earlier._

****

_He enveloped Bin in his arms, ‘We’ll manage, Binnie. We will.’_

****

_The words were more for his own benefit than Bin’s but he needed it; he needed all he reassurance he could get, even if he had to say it himself._

****

_They sat on the sofa holding onto each other like they were drowning, while outside the rain was battering against the windowpanes._

****

_After what felt like eternity, Bin wriggled out of his embrace and slammed the computer shut._

****

_‘Come to bed, beautiful. We’ll start again tomorrow.’_

****

_Dongmin let himself to be pulled towards the bedroom, trying his best to fight the cold, sinking feeling in his stomach._

………………............

****

****

_They found a shoebox of an apartment in a rather run-down area of Oakland couple of days later and tried not to worry about the meagre balance left in their bank accounts._

****

_‘I bet you are glad you took on the summer camp job now, right? At least one of us won’t be hungry.‘_

_Bin was sprawled across Dongmin’s chest, relaxed, playing idly with Dongmin’s fingers. The world looked much better viewed from a warm bed on a Sunday morning. He flopped onto his stomach and buried his nose in the crook of Dongmin’s neck._

****

_‘Hmm... I think I’m feeling a different type of hunger right now.’_

****

_‘If THAT was meant to be a joke, Binnie, it’s not working,’ Dongmin smacked his head._

****

_‘I am serious though, beautiful.’ Bin looked up from where he started leaving hickeys along Dongmin’s collarbone, undeterred by the slap. ‘You don’t need to worry about anything for the first three weeks and I will get paid a week earlier. Mr Winters didn’t sound very enthusiastic on the phone on Friday but he agreed. So you should stop worrying and start paying more attention to your boyfriend. I’m subtly trying to get you to have sex with me right now – and you are totally ignoring me.’_

****

_‘Sorry, Binnie, ’Dongmin tried his best to chase away the black thoughts but failed miserably._

****

_A if sensing his head was elsewhere, Bin slipped his hands under Dongmin’s t-shirt, ‘Stop overthinking it, beautiful. It will work out.’_

****

_‘But I’m worried; it’s gonna be tight for you.’_

****

_‘Tight but not impossible. I don’t need to eat much, I'll manage.’_

****

_Under different circumstances, Dongmin would have laughed at the level of delusion Bin was displaying. Right now, he simply pulled Bin into a kiss and tried to forget about the blackness that was closing in on him._

 

………………………..

****

****

_The flight cabin was shrouded in darkness, most of the passengers asleep. A middle-aged lady two rows down was immersed in a book, her reading lamp casting a soft pool of light on her short blond hair._

****

_Next to him, Bin stirred awake and rubbed his nose against Dongmin’s shoulder._

****

_‘Where are we?’ he mumbled into the fabric of `Dongmin’s hoodie, the voice still husky with sleep._

****

_‘I don’t know, I only woke up a minute ago.’_

****

_Bin took Dongmin’s hand and started kissing his fingers, one by one. ‘I could eat you up right now right here, you know,’ he whispered._

****

_Dongmin suppressed a laugh, reddening a little, ‘Be quiet, people can hear.’_

****

_Bin smiled and moved closer, ‘We are forty thousand feet above ground, surrounded by strangers. I don’t really care who can hear us. Besides, everybody seems to be asleep. Come on, at least one kiss. We haven’t kissed since we left Korea this morning. This will be our first free kiss.’_

****

_The darkness was making him bold and he leaned over, brushing their lips together for the briefest of moments._

****

_Bin didn’t say a word, merely smiled and wrapped his hand around the nape of Dongmin’s neck, pulling him close. His mouth tasted like new beginning._

****

_It tasted like freedom._

****

………………………

****

****

_They stood in the middle of a gloomy room and Dongmin could see Bin was trying desperately to smile._

****

_‘It’s not that bad.’_

_It was bad. The carpets were worn, the wall painted an undeterminable shade somewhere between beige and grey. The kitchen – if it deserved the name at all – was a couple of shelves above a tiny sink and an even tinier stove in one corner of the room. The ancient air con on the windowsill looked as if it had seen the days of president Kennedy and did nothing to alleviate the humid heat penetrating everything around._

****

_Through the open door Dongmin could see the bedroom so tiny, there was only room for a bed, pushed into the corner, and a small nightstand. Gingerly, he peeked in. Close up, the space looked even smaller. A door in the wall at the foot of the bed revealed a build-in closet. It couldn’t open fully because of the lack of space._

****

_The feeling of dejection overwhelmed him. The jetlag, the depressive surroundings, the uncertainty of what lied ahead; suddenly he felt so homesick he could barely breathe._

****

_He sank onto the bed._

****

_Bin brought in the last suitcase and closed the door. The soft click somehow made their future definite, inevitable, final._

****

_He left everything in the living room and joined Dongmin in the bedroom, his movements weary as he sat down. ‘Well, it looked a bit better in the pictures.’_

****

_Bin was trying hard but Dongmin could see his boyfriend felt the same; it was evident from his strained voice, the tired, red-rimmed eyes, the way he was gripping Dongmin’s hand._

****

_For a while they both sat on the edge of the bed, their fingers intertwined, the oppressive walls closing in on them._

****

_It was eleven o’clock in the morning but Dongmin felt like run over by a steamroller. Back in Busan it was 5am the next day. He never felt further from home._

****

_With an enormous effort, he rose to his feet. He had to try, for Bin. This was his own idea, now was not the time to succumb to black thoughts. With bitterness he reminded himself that even if he decided to go back home, he had nothing to go back to._

****

_‘Let’s try to get some sleep, Binnie, ok?’_

****

_Bin didn’t look up, only nodded._

****

_Dongmin pulled their favourite bed linen out of one of the suitcases, still smelling like their cosy apartment in Busan. They didn’t bring too many things with them but this was one thing Dongmin insisted on, despite Bin mocking him while they were packing. Now he was glad he didn’t give in._

****

_‘Help me, ok?’_

****

_Somehow, the simplicity of a mundane task managed to calm them down, gave them something to focus on for the moment. One step at the time. When they finished, Bin nosedived into the fresh-smelling sheets with a relieved groan, inhaling their scent._

****

_Despite hardly being able to stand on his feet, Dongmin could not help but chuckle._

****

_‘Get up. I'm not letting you into bed in those dirty clothes.’_

****

_He tugged at Bin’s arm, gently at first, then more forcefully, ‘Come, have a shower first.’_

****

_‘Don’t want to,’ Bin’s voice was muffled, his head still buried face-down in the pillow._

****

_‘Shower first.’_

****

_No response._

****

_‘Together?’_

_Bin rolled slowly onto his back and squinted at Dongmin with a hesitant little grin, ‘Can I_ _wash your back?’_

****

_Dongmin leaned down. Caught Bin’s bottom lip with his teeth. ‘You can do whatever you want.’_

_In a heartbeat, Bin was up and dragging him to the bathroom._

………………………

****

 

****

_Back between the cool sheets, the familiar scent of Bin’s shampoo mixing with the crispness of the cotton on their still damp skin, the darkness in the pit of Dongmin’s stomach began to lift. He pulled Bin onto his chest and wrapped his arms around him, they way they always slept._

****

_The merciful numbness of sleep refused to come but the future didn’t look so threatening anymore, as if its dark, menacing hues were washed down the shower drain, leaving behind something mellower, something more benign._

****

_He buried his nose in Bin’s hair and allowed the excitement from three months ago to fill his heart again - despite the awful apartment, the bleak view out of the window onto a wall of the next building and the prospect of being separated for the next three weeks._

****

_‘We are going to be ok, right? Even if this place is awful.’_

****

_Bin giggled, a sweet sound that warmed Dongmin’s soul._

****

_‘This place is a dump but I rather like the shower.’_

……………………………..

 

_Standing in front of the door, Dongmin eased the backpack off his shoulders, patting his pockets for keys. The back of his camp t-shirt was stained with sweat, damp strands of hair were hanging limply across his forehead. The difference in temperature between the cool pine forests of Yosemite and the suffocating heat radiating off the pavements in Oakland was shocking. The jelly-like substance that used to be his legs was almost buckling underneath him when the door swung open._

****

_‘Binnie!’_

****

_Bin grabbed his t-shirt and pulled him inside so fast they nearly tripped over the backpack at Dongmin’s feet._

****

_‘I missed you, Binnie, I missed you so much!’_

****

_Bin didn’t talk and pulled him in for a kiss._

****

_Dongmin could barely breathe. He dropped the other bag he was still holding and pulled Bin even closer, drowning in the smell of him, in his taste, in everything he missed during those first three weeks of their new life._

****

_‘Binnie,’ he gasped as Bin kissed him so hard he drew blood._

****

_Bin didn’t talk. He hoisted Dongmin up and carried him to the bedroom. Dongmin wrapped his legs around Bin’s waist, buried his face in Bin’s neck and closed his eyes. ‘My god, I missed you so much.’_

****

_The breath was knocked out of his lungs as Bin threw him on the bed. He laughed out loud, head dizzy, ‘Whoa, baby, slow down!’_

****

_Bin didn’t slow down. His lips and hands attacked Dongmin at a breakneck speed, devouring him like a starved man who was about to have his first meal in weeks. Within seconds, everything between them was discarded - clothes, words, thoughts – and after a minute’s struggle to catch up, Dongmin simply let go. It was strangely intoxicating to see Bin completely breathless, his whole being utterly consumed by lust; after three weeks of missing him – with only snoring of his fellow councellor Chris in the next bunk for company at night – his own desire was waking up fast._

****

_The blankets around him smelled like Bin, the only thing that belonged. It belied the strangeness of the barren, unfamiliar room that painfully reminded him how far from home they were._

****

_Hands scrambling for purchase on the sheets, he closed his eyes to the walls with their peeling paint, the bleak view from the window. What was around, visible to the eye, was not important. He only wanted to breathe in Bin’s scent, he only needed to feel the crook of Bin’s fingers driving him closer to the edge._

****

_‘I missed you so much.’_

****

_He opened his eyes. It took him a second to emerge, like the last two strokes after swimming deep, to break the surface of water, to gasp gratefully for air._

****

_Above him, Bin’s face was hazed with pleasure and pain at the same time, his eyes boring into Dongmin’s, ‘I missed you so much, Min.’_

_Tears he didn’t know were there – on standby, ready – spilled down his temples, soaking into his hair._

****

_He dug his fingernails into Bin’s shoulders, pulling him closer, ‘God, I missed you too. I missed you so badly. I need you, Binnie, please, right now…’_

****

_The snap of Bin’s hips felt like coming home._

****

****

……………………………

****

****

_Dongmin rolled over onto his stomach and pressed a kiss against the sweaty skin of Bin’s shoulder, laughing a little breathlessly, ‘That was… hot, Mr Superfast.’_

_Next to him, Bin didn’t move a muscle. Sprawled on the bed, body slick with sweat, he lay motionless, not reacting at all._

_He nudged Bin’s arm with his nose and chuckled quietly, ‘Hey, have I wrecked you that badly?’_

__

****

__

_Bin didn’t react and, for the first time since he returned, Dongmin took in the paleness of his face, the dark bags under his eyes._

__

****

__

_The mood suddenly shifted, his insides quivering with unease, ‘Are you ok, Binnie?’_

_‘I…, I think I feel sick…’_

__

****

__

_Dongmin sat up as fast as he could._

__

****

__

_Despite lying down, Bin looked as if he was going to faint, the sickly paleness around his lips scaring Dongmin to the core._

__

****

__

_‘Oh no, you should’ve told me you weren’t well; I wouldn’t have… oh my God, I’m sorry!’_

__

****

__

_Bin smiled a little, eyes shut. ‘It’s ok. I wanted it too… Couldn’t wait anymore.’_

__

****

__

_Dongmin ran his fingers through the sweaty strands of Bin’s hair, ‘Do you want some water?’_

__

****

__

_Without opening his eyes, Bin nodded weakly._

__

****

__

_Dongmin got up and headed for the fridge. The air in the apartment was hot and humid, thick like syrup, making it hard to breathe._

__

****

__

_Only now he noticed the silence, the absence of the air con humming, ‘God, it’s so hot here. Why is the air con not working?’_

__

****

__

_‘It… It broke down three days ago. I haven’t.. I haven’t called the landlord about it yet.’_

__

****

__

_Bin’s answer, halting and reluctant, came at the same time as Dongmin opened the fridge and found it completely bare._

__

****

__

_He spun around, ‘Binnie, what on earth happened here?’_

__

****

__

_His movements weary, Bin sat up and hugged his knees. ‘I… I haven’t got paid yet because I’ve only started this Monday,’ he whispered, the words thin, threadbare. ‘I got a call from Mr Winters two weeks ago. Apparently their firm lost a major account to a competitor and there wasn’t enough work to go around and whether I could start one week later than we agreed. And apparently I would need to finish my first two weeks, like everybody else, before I got paid.’_

__

****

__

_Dongmin froze. He knew the money that was left for Bin to spend during those three weeks alone had been super-tight and they had both counted on him getting paid after his first week at work. Mr Winters seemed like a trustworthy person and it never crossed Dongmin’s mind the man might not keep his promise._

__

****

__

_Bin must have read the confusion and rage in Dongmin’s face because he raised his hands hastily. ‘I know, I know. He was very sorry about it, apologized so many times, in the end I felt sorry for him. It clearly wasn’t a great time for him to hire someone new when there was no work but he felt bad about it because we had an agreement.’_

__

****

__

_Apologetic words didn’t feed you though, thought Dongmin horrified._

__

****

__

_‘Christ, Binnie, why didn’t you tell me? We talked almost every day!’_

__

****

__

_Bin eyed him hopelessly. He wiped away the silent tears that started spilling down his cheeks._

__

****

__

_‘Why didn’t you tell me, Binnie?’ whispered Dongmin, eyeing the bareness of the fridge, the emptiness of the shelves._

__

****

__

_‘How would that help? You were too far away. And I didn’t want to risk you doing something stupid, like leaving the camp and coming here. We need the money you were earning there.’_

__

****

__

_‘You should have told me though. I had no idea, I thought you were having a nice time!’_

__

****

__

_‘Well, at first I was, sort of. I did a little bit of sightseeing for the first couple of days but then I stopped – everything was too expensive. I realised when I went food shopping for the first time that it would be tight. So I thought that I would make the place ready for when you come back. I bought couple of things for the kitchen so we can actually cook and eat here, instead of eating out. Nobody wants to live on McDonalds all the time. I figured once I started working I could survive on a bare minimum for a week, then I would get paid and everything would be perfect.’_

__

****

__

_Dongmin looked around and noticed a couple of new bowls, a set of cups and glasses on the shelf above the sink. An empty tomato soup tin was holding some cutlery, their metal chopsticks sticking out like proud reminders of home._

__

****

__

_He felt tears prickling in his eyes._

__

****

__

_Bin’s voice sounded weary to the bone. ‘Instead of sightseeing I though I would get to know the area but by the end of the week I knew the whole neighbourhood and was already_ _getting bored. And then Mr Winters called me on Friday. I felt sick; I literally felt sick when I heard the news.’_

__

****

__

_‘Why haven’t you told me,’ Dongmin repeated numbly, realising he was still holding the fridge door open. He shut it quietly and returned to the bedroom to sit next to Bin._

__

****

__

_Bin leaned his head against Dongmin’s shoulder. ‘I didn’t want to worry you. And I thought I might be able to find some work for a week anyway.’_

__

****

__

_‘And did you?’_

__

****

__

_‘I did, in a little burger joint round the corner. Started on Sunday. Flipping burgers, literally. Well, not just that but that pretty much sums it up. I lied a little; well, omitted the fact that I would be leaving after a week and I had a job. But then I made a mistake of mentioning it to one of the guys whom I worked with. He rattled on me to the manager and he threw me out on Tuesday. Said it’s not worth training me if I’m to leave before I even learned to make a perfect burger.  He was rather proud of that little shithole.’_

__

****

__

_‘God, I hope he paid you.’_

__

****

__

_Bin didn’t look up._

__

****

__

_Dongmin shook his arm a little, ‘Binnie, did he pay you?’_

__

****

__

_Bin hung his head, ‘Well, no. He was rather pissed off, said he wasted more time with me than it was worth it and that I slowed everyone down. And that I should consider all the free food my salary.’_

__

****

__

_‘He is a bastard! I bet that was illegal!’_

__

****

__

_‘Let it go, Min. What do you want to do? I was there illegally; the whole thing was shady anyway. But for those three days I was working there I didn’t need to worry too much about food; that was worth something. After that, I tried harder. I started walking home from work to save money; in the evening it didn’t really matter what time I got home – I had nothing to do anyway. I ate less. It was ok.’_

__

****

__

_And Dongmin suddenly understood. The despair, the loneliness. The bone-weary tiredness that comes in the evening when every day is a struggle for survival. Through the open door he spied the sealed box with Bin’s art supplies, untouched, in the exact spot he himself set it down when they had arrived. The easel was still folded, resting against the wall._

__

****

__

_Fighting the tightness in his throat, he let his hand ran through Bin’s hair, ‘Let’s go out for dinner. I saw a restaurant ‘All you can eat for $10.’_

__

****

__

_Bin’s smile was weak but it was there. ‘I know which one you mean. The one near the church?’_

_‘Yes. Have you been?’_

__

****

__

_The moment the question left his lips, he felt stupid for asking._

__

****

__

_Bin didn’t seem to have notice his lack of tact, merely shook his head a little, ‘No.’_

__

****

__

_‘Let’s go now, ok? I got paid; the money got transferred today. We can go out,’ he gripped Bin’s hand excitedly.He expected Bin to perk up immediately at the mention of food and was almost shocked when the other didn’t move._

__

****

__

_‘I’m tired, beautiful,’ Bin feeble attempt at smiling tugged painfully at Dongmin’s heart. I walked all the way to and from work. That’s more than two hours of walking, Min.’_

__

****

__

_‘Oh, come on,’ Dongmin tried to pull him up. ‘When you go to the gym and run on the treadmill, you clock in more than that.’_

_Bin, suddenly as white as a sheet, shook his head again, ‘Don’t … Don’t, Min. I’m… I’m dizzy. I think I need to lie down,’ he slumped onto the bed, body going completely limp._

__

****

__

_Dongmin’s stomach sunk with unease, then the thought hit him with absolute clarity._

__

****

__

_‘Binnie, what did you eat today?’_

__

****

__

_Bin mumbled something inaudible into the pillow_

__

****

__

_‘Actually, when was the last time you’ve eaten at all? And I want the truth,’ he whispered gently._

__

****

__

_Averting his gaze, Bin struggled with an answer. ‘I think… Wednesday night. Yes, I had the last rice for dinner.’_

__

****

__

_It was Friday night._

__

****

__

_‘Jesus.’_

__

****

__

_‘No, not true, someone in the office brought in a birthday cake yesterday; I had a slice. And there is always free coffee and tea.’_

__

****

__

_The boundaries between anger and the feeling of hopelessness were becoming dangerously blurred._

__

****

__

_‘Could you not have borrowed money from someone in the office? Or talked to Mr Winters?’_

__

****

__

_Something in Bin’s eyes hardened, although the tone of his voice has not changed. ‘I’m not a beggar, Min. I’ve worked there for five days; I barely know the people.’_

__

****

__

_‘Yes, but you didn’t need to play a hero? You could’ve just overdrawn the account for fuck’s sake!’_

__

****

__

_‘I didn’t want to rack up more fees,’ Bin’s whisper was so quiet, it was barely there. ‘We can't afford that, not at the moment.’_

__

****

__

_‘Oh my God, I can't believe this! Who cares about the bloody fees? It wouldn’t have killed us, you know. Or you could have told me! I would have found the way somehow; I would have borrowed money from someone!’_

__

****

__

_‘I’m not a charity case.’_

__

****

__

_‘No, you just decided to play a martyr instead!’_

__

****

__

_‘Stop shouting at me.’ Looking half-dead, Bin closed his eyes and turned away from him, facing the wall._

__

****

__

_‘Oh, for fuck’s sake…’_

__

****

__

_Horrified, Dongmin stopped mid-sentence._

__

****

__

_Were Bin’s ribs always this visible, almost piercing through the skin on his back?  Even his arms seemed thinner, although he wasn’t sure whether it was true or he was simply imagining things._

__

****

__

_Hesitantly, he stroked Bin’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Binnie. I didn’t mean to shout at you.’_

__

****

__

_Bin rolled over and looked at him mutely, his icy fingertips brushing Dongmin’s hand._

__

****

__

_A deep sense of shame washed over Dongmin. He suddenly remembered the juicy burgers, the greasy pizzas laden with delicious toppings, the fragrant garlic bread dripping with olive oil they would have for dinner at the camp. The endless baskets of doughnuts and bottomless pots of coffee for counsellors every afternoon. The amount of food at breakfast, the cereals, fresh fruit, bread – it all seemed almost obscene when facing the emptiness of this place where hunger now seemed to be seeping out of every corner and shouting at him from Bin’s exhausted eyes._

__

****

__

_Suddenly he felt guilty about eating a cereal bar barely ten minutes before he entered the apartment. Had he known, he would have saved it for Bin. God, I would have bought half of the shop before I came back, the thought helplessly._

__

****

__

_He gently covered Bin with a sheet._

__

****

__

_‘It’s ok, Binnie. I’ll go and get some food. You rest.’_

__

****

__

_Closing his eyes again, Bin reached for Dongmin’s hand and squeezed it gently_

__

****

__

 

__

****

__

__

………………….

__

__  


****

__

 

__

****

__

_Laden with two massive bags that were almost breaking his arms, Dongmin stumbled inside._

__

****

__

_His hands were stinging from the handles digging into his skin and his head was still reeling from how much the shopping cost. Or maybe it didn’t cost THAT much but he understood how everything must have seemed expensive to someone with an empty bank account. Only now was he able to realise how powerless Bin must have felt, left alone, with virtually no money._

__

****

__

_The distant week in spring when they had come for the interviews suddenly seemed like a wasted chance when they could have found out a lot more about the life that awaited them in San Francisco. Instead, they survived on the diet of McDonalds and didn’t care much about anything beyond the next morning, the next interview._

__

****

__

_McDonalds was probably the cheapest option but how stupid were we exactly, he wondered._

__

****

__

_He dumped the load on the tiny kitchen table and started stuffing the fridge and the cupboards. Coffee, milk, bread, doughnuts, frozen pizzas, breakfast cereals, rice, fresh vegetables, a whole chicken, four massive meat patties, ready to be made into burgers. Just_ _the sight of them made his mouth water. He left them on the table and headed for the bedroom to check on Bin._

__

****

__

_Curled up under the thin sheet, Bin didn’t looked as if he moved at all since Dongmin was gone. His face was still almost as white as the pillow his head was buried in._

__

****

__

_Suddenly massive burgers seemed like a bad idea._

__

****

__

_They would probably make you sick, Dongmin thought._

__

****

__

_He climbed into bed and enveloped Bin in a careful hug. ‘I'll make you some rice porridge, Binnie, ok?’_

__

****

__

_The silence lasted for so long, he wondered whether Bin had fallen asleep. He almost gave up when a hand weekly grabbed his shirt and Bin started sobbing into the pillow, loud, desperate sobs, tugging at Dongmin’s heart._

__

****

__

_‘Don’t you ever fucking leave me Min, don’t you ever leave me again.’_

__

****

__

_He pressed Bin against him, the nudges of his ribs sharp against Dongmin’s palms. ‘I won’t. I swear I won’t, Binnie. Never again.’_

__

****

__

_Despite the heat, he held Bin close until his sobs died away and he fell asleep._

__

****

__

__

****

__

__

…………………….

__

__  


****

__

__

****

__

_The tiny kitchen felt cold and alien, and he hurriedly went about his task, feeling like a stranger in the unfamiliar place._

__

****

__

_While waiting for the porridge to cool, and contemplating whether to wake Bin up or let him sleep for a bit more, he noticed something familiar in the corner on the floor._

__

****

__

_Hiding behind the rubbish bin was Bin’s notepad, the one he used to carry with himself everywhere to sketch._

__

****

__

_Picking it up carefully, Dongmin smoothed out the creased paper. He almost put it back up on the table, when, on impulse, he opened it and started flicking through._

__

****

__

_The memories jumped at him off the pages, images of their lives in Busan, time that seemed so far away now._

__

****

__

_A glass on his bedside table, sunlight filtering through the water. Sua sitting on the floor, face creased in an infectious grin. Dongmin asleep on the sofa in the living room. Their neighbour’s cat. More Dongmin. A busy airport scene that Bin sketched while waiting for their flight._

__

****

__

_A view out of the window, darkness behind the glass._

__

****

__

_Something icy gripped his throat as he turned the page._

__

****

__

_A wall, brick after brick after brick filling the entire page._

__

****

__

_Next._

__

****

__

_Black scribbles, the shapes random and unsettling. A figure curled up in a ball, outlined in harsh and unforgiving strokes. More blackness looming above it._

__

****

__

_Dongmin froze. Hesitantly, he leafed through the rest of the sketchbook. There was nothing, only blank pages after that._

__

****

__

_He went back and stared at the tiny figure. The curled up shape, body in a tight ball, bumps of the spine jutting through the taut skin. Hands covering ears. A dark cloud above, oppressive, heavy._

__

****

__

_In the left bottom corner, almost lost amongst the shading, the word ‘Alone.’_

__

****

__

_He let go of the sketchbook as if it burned his fingers and jumped up. The humid air in the room was suffocating him; the walls were looming too close._

__

****

__

_He stopped in the doorway to the bedroom, barely restraining himself from waking up Bin just not to feel alone but he resisted and went back to the kitchen table._

__

****

__

_He sat down, legs two leaden weights dragging him down, the picture looking at him accusingly from the page. He buried his head between his arms on the table and started crying._

__

****

__

__

****

__

__

………………………..

__

__  


****

__

 

__

****

__

_Much later, lying in bed with the windows thrown wide open and unfamiliar sounds of a foreign city keeping him wide awake - Bin draped over his chest and mercifully asleep again - he contemplated how different their life suddenly felt. How drifting it became, without an anchor, like two leaves being tossed around by a gust of wind._

__

****

__

_Back in Busan they had never wanted for anything. While at university, their parents had supported them both. They might have had jobs to pay their way through their university years but the invisible hands of their parents had always been there, hovering in the background, ready to help._

__

****

__

_After they graduated and started working, the money kept coming in, regular as clockwork, reassuring in its presence, always there. It had never been an issue until now._

__

****

__

_Hugging Bin’s sleeping body and pressing kisses into his sweaty hair, the night air finally slightly more balmy on their clammy skin, Dongmin suddenly felt that in this new land of freedom and opportunities, they still had an awful lot to learn._

__

****

__

 

__

****

__

 

__


	10. Hope

 

## 

Hope

Outside the bakery, Dongmin peered into the paper bag. He pulled out one of the bagels and, chewing absentmindedly, started ambling down the street.

He didn’t particularly want to go back home.  Rocky’s wedding hung above his head like the proverbial Damocles sword and he needed to clear his head in order to make a decision. It couldn’t be postponed any longer; he knew that. He owed to Rocky, he owed it to Bin.

He longed to go. He missed his old friends, he missed Busan. He missed his family.

The events from two years ago felt like Pandora’s box in his hands, a box that he managed - just about - to keep shut since then. By going, he feared, he would wrench it open; things that were supposed to stay where they were now – contained – out in the open again.

Out of control.

Bin had been clearly convinced that he needed to face his demons and they had had several heated discussions about the wedding in the last couple of months. Bin had negotiated, cajoled, pleaded, then eventually stopped - the resignation clear from his silence - but Dongmin couldn't bring himself to say yes; the anxiety was eating away at him like cancer.

After the proposal, Bin held to his promise and refrained from mentioning the wedding for several weeks but Dongmin knew the discussion was far from over.

On Wednesday night over dinner, in one last desperate attempt to persuade him, Bin had broken the subject again.

 

……………………….

 

_‘Come on, beautiful, you owe it to Rocky; he hopes you will be there. I spoke to him yesterday.’_

_Now that Dongmin thought about it, Rocky hadn’t been in touch for almost a month. Clearly, after failing to persuade him, he turned to Bin as an ally to help him to change Dongmin’s mind._

_The room suddenly seemed smaller, the ceiling lower._

_‘I don’t know, Binnie,’ he said slowly. ‘I don’t think I can stand being rejected all over again. Twice was enough.’_

_‘You are overthinking it,’ Bin leaned over and held his hands, eyes pleading. ‘You’ll be fine, beautiful, I know it. We go, we have fun and then - only if you want to - you go and see your family. Nobody will be forcing you to do that.”_

_‘But the thing is, once I’m there I will want to go. And…. I don’t want to live through THAT again.’_

_‘You don’t know what will happen. I’m sure that once you’re there your family will change their mind. They can’t shut the door in your face.’_

_‘How do you know?’_

_The initial panicky feeling gave way to annoyance. ‘Your family didn’t throw you out! What do you know about rejection?’_

_‘I know quite a lot about it,’ Bin’s was eyeing him quietly, his voice calm, but Dongmin could hear tiny cracks in his self-restraint. ‘I saw you going through it; I was there. I know.’_

_‘That’s not quite the same though, is it?’_

_The anger was swelling in him now, a dangerous high tide coming in._

_‘No, but I don’t need to live through everything myself to be able to empathise, right?’_

_Bin took a deep breath. Dongmin could see he was trying very hard to stay calm. A small, shameful part of him wished to see Bin crack, to lose it, to give in to the anger._

_‘Min, please.’ Bin took his hand. ‘Please, come with me. I never asked anything from you when it came to…’ he hesitated, ‘when it came to our families. Not once. All those years, I always flew alone, never pushed you to come too - because I knew how hard it would be for you. But I’m asking you know. No,’ he corrected himself, brows furrowed. ‘I’m begging you, Min. Just this once. Please come with me.’_

_Dongmin felt the sweat beading on his forehead. He could hardly breathe._

_‘Don’t do this, Binnie. I don’t know if I can.’_

_‘Please, Min.’_

_He felt the damn breaking, the high surge of anger rushing in._

_‘Just leave me alone, for Christ’s sake, ok? I simply can’t go, don’t you understand?’_

_Bin’s gaze turned harder somehow, colder._

_‘You can go, Min, that’s the point - but you are choosing not to! It’s not just your family; you have friends there as well, don’t you want to see them? What do you want to do, never set foot in Korea for the rest of your life? Come on, we came here to be free, this is not a jail, you can go wherever you want to, this was supposed to set us free!’_

_‘Well, it didn’t really, did it?’ Dongmin glared into Bin’s eyes, breathing through his nose, knowing a head –on collision was imminent but powerless to do anything about it. It was too late._

_‘Why did we come here then, can you fucking tell me?’ Bin slammed his glass on the table so hard, it made Dongmin jump._

_‘I don’t know!’ The words echoed through the silent apartment, too threatening for the cosy room, too loud for the small space between them._

_‘You don’t know?’ Bin’s voice rose in disbelief. ‘What do you mean? Are you telling me you regret it now, us coming here?’_

_‘And what if I do?’_

_The moment the words were spoken he wished he never said them aloud._

_Bin’s incredulous expression - the hurt in his face, the disappointment - made him want to die._

_‘Fuck you, Lee Dongmin, fuck you! I did all of this for you!  I’m not saying I was against it - you know I wasn’t - but this whole bloody exile was your idea and I said yes because I wanted you to be happy! I had thought we were muddling through just fine, back in Busan. Not saying everything was great - the secrecy, the hypocrisy and all that - but I’m sure we weren’t the only couple hiding in the closet in Korea. Plenty of people live like that! But I did it - and now you’re telling me you regret it? After five years that we could have been at home?’_

_At home._

_What does one say after peeking deep down into their lover’s soul and finding homesickness hiding in the darkest corner, homesickness as big as one’s own?_

_Bin stormed out of the room._

_Dongmin didn’t look up from where he was staring at his hands lying uselessly on the table. Listened to the sound of keys being grabbed, door slamming shut._

_In the empty apartment, he felt like he broke something irreparable, the shards all around him in the deafening silence._

_………………….._

_At 1am, a key rattled in the lock. The door opened and Bin stumbled in, tripping over their gym bags in the hallway._

_Dongmin jumped up from the sofa where he was watching endless re-runs of old sitcoms, curled up on himself, not really knowing what was going on screen, anger slowly being replaced by regret, sadness, worry - then fear as the hour grew late._

_‘Where have you been?’ His voice was quiet, all energy sucked out of him by the hours of waiting alone, wanting to apologise and having no one to apologise to._

_‘Does … Does it matter?’ Bin’s bloodshot eyes didn’t quite meet his._

_‘I was scared something happened. I called at least ten times, you weren’t picking up.’_

_Tears were starting to prickle in his eyes and he was afraid to blink; now was not the time to cry, he wanted to talk, he needed to talk._

_Bin was holding onto the wall with one hand, head hanging down, dishevelled hair falling in his face._

_‘I was getting pissed. Matches my mood, you know,’ a hint of malice in his laugh, ‘because I’m pissed at you.’_

_He looked up suddenly, eyes flat and cold like two stones._

_‘Go to bed, Min. I don’t want to talk to you right now.’_

_He turned and went into the studio, quietly shutting the door behind him._

_………………………_

_The morning found him freezing on top of the covers, yesterday’s clothes itchy and sticking to his body, eyes burning and dry from tears that came later, behind the closed bedroom door, in a bed that was too big and too empty without Bin’s warmth._

_The memory of the night before, of Bin’s pained face and the door closing in front of him made his heart ache._

_He sat up slowly. The bed was still too big, still too cold, still empty._

_He thanked his lucky stars he didn’t have any early lessons on Thursday morning. The thought of having to leave for work in the morning, without talking to Bin first, terrified him._

_Dongmin knew he was the one in their relationship who got mad easily. Anything could set off his explosive temper - if things became too much, if he was stressed or simply too tired. Bin’s anger was different. Sarcastic, shrouded in cold silence for hours afterwards, he barely ever raised his voice when they argued. The fact that he did so yesterday made Dongmin’s stomach heavy with icy dread. Bin was angry, he was really angry._

_The tiles in the hallway felt cool under his feet. He paused in front of the studio and grasped the handle. It felt heavy in his hand, ominous._

_The pale early morning light filtered through the blinds, painting the tiny room grey. Bin was curled up on the narrow sofa, wrapped in the blankets like a colourful burrito, discarded clothes strewn on the carpet. Breadcrumbs, Eunwoo thought randomly. Hansel und Gretel. He quite liked Brothers Grimm, the dark tales of hate and love, revenge and forgiveness. Which one will it be now?_

_He crouched down and ran his fingers through the tussled hair sticking from underneath the covers._

_‘Binnie?’ He traced the outlines of Bin’s face with his fingers._

_Bin eyelashes fluttered open, eyes puffy, unfocused for a moment, then finding his._

_‘Hey.’ His expression was unreadable._

_‘Hey,’ they were both whispering, afraid to release the demons from the night before. ‘You ok?’_

_Bin sighed. ‘Head hurts,’ he mumbled._

_‘Wait, I’ll get you something for that.’ Dongmin got up and returned a minute later with a glass of water and couple of pills in his hand._

_Bin swallowed the pills and drained the glass. ‘Thank you.’_

_He reached out from underneath the heavy blanket and took Dongmin’s cold fingers in his warm hand. A cautiously extended olive branch._

_‘You wanna go back to sleep for a bit? You still have time; I can wake you up in an hour or so.’_

_Bin closed his eyes but didn’t let go of Dongmin’s hand. ’No.’_

_Dongmin sighed.  ‘I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean what I said. I was panicking; I didn’t mean it, Binnie. I really didn’t. I'm glad we came,’ he swallowed the tears that felt like a massive lump in his throat. ‘We hold hand when we go shopping. I can kiss you in the streets and nobody looks like they’re going to vomit – or to beat us up. I took you to my work party and introduced you as my fiancé and everyone was smiling and was nice to you. Coming here was the best decision we ever made. I never regretted it. Ever.’_

_Bin’s’ fingers squeezed his. ‘I am sorry too. I was with Nathan and Tim and things sort of got out of hand. But I should have answered the phone. It’s just… I was really angry at you, frustrated that you couldn’t make up your mind. I really wanted you to go. I still want you to go. When I went on my own it was nice but I wanted you to be there with me, to go for a walk along the Han, to get some kimbap together. To go to the arcade. To do all the stupid things we used to. Just once. I miss it so much.’_

_Bin pressed a kiss into Dongmin’s palm and Dongmin’s heart ached. He reached out and carded his fingers through Bin’s hair._

_‘You were right though, Binnie,’ he whispered. ‘For years, it was all about me, my family, my problems - and you had been there for me, going through the whole mess that happened two years ago without complaining, without ever losing your patience, not once. I took it for granted for so long. I took YOU for granted. I never asked how you were feeling, if you were happy here, whether you missed home. I’m so sorry.’_

_Bin shook his head._

_‘You are the only one though who knows what you really feel. I shouldn’t have pushed you yesterday. But I was so angry with you, Min. I was so obsessed with the idea of you coming with me, as if that fixed everything. I know I shouldn’t feel that way - I have been back, I saw my parents twice, Sua was here last year.’_

_Dongmin smiled at the memory. ‘Who would have thought Sua would become a showbiz journalist. Her articles about k-con were great.’_

_Bin grinned, ‘She had a great time here last year.’_

_For a moment, they both remained silent, immersed in the memories of two weeks with Sua a year ago. Bin’s younger sister was a whirlwind, bringing with her a breath of fresh air, the aroma of home. She had cooked Bin’s favourite meals and filled them in with gossip about people they both used to know in Busan._

_Remembering Bin’s beaming face, laughing with his sister about some long forgotten antics of their cousins, Dongmin felt a pang of pain. Bin gave up all of this to be with him._

_He clasped both Bin’s hands, feeling a surge of love so strong, it nearly made him dizzy. ‘I think I should come with you in October.’_

_‘No,’ Bin frowned. ‘Don’t feel like you have to go just because of me. Just promise me you’ll think about it. If you think you can handle it, I would love you to came. It’s just… I will need to book the tickets fairly soon,’ he gave a shy, almost embarrassed smile._

_Dongmin exhaled shakily. ‘Give me a couple of days, ok? I need to do some soul searching.’_

_Bin smiled. ‘Deal. I will leave it and not gonna ask anything. When you made up your mind, tell me.’_

……………………………..

 

He stopped at one of the street cafés, ordered a cappuccino and sat down outside. The sun was still shining, no clouds in sight; he felt the warmth stroking his face. The lightness which filled him up at the gallery after seeing Alice was spreading through his bones; he was smiling without knowing exactly why. Everything seemed possible, within reach. He thought about the wedding. If he decided to go, would he be able to handle his family’s rejection again?  Or maybe there was a little glint of hope? Jinjin messaged him yesterday, surprising him with the news that Donghwi had asked him in secret if Dongmin was coming.

‘Come on, Min, you owe it to your little brother.’

‘He is not little any more,’ he smiled.

‘Shut up, you know exactly what I mean. He is still your brother. Just make sure you get your sorry ass over here in October, ok?’

He was under no illusion; even if Donghwi would be prepared to see him, there was no reconciliation with his father in sight, and he wasn’t at all sure about his mum. But even if nobody wanted to see him, what else could go wrong? Everything I feared since I admitted to myself and to my family that I loved Bin had happened already, he thought almost stubbornly.

What would happen if he went?

Despite the sudden surge of optimism, his heartbeat sped up at the thought of him facing his father again.

On an impulse, he took out his phone and found a number he had not used for almost a year.

The icon was a sketch of a dove, its wings spread, ready to soar.

He dialled the number quickly, before he could change his mind.

Halfway expecting an answering machine, it startled him a little to hear Marion’s raspy voice.

‘Hello.’

‘Marion? It’s Dongmin Lee. How are you?’

‘Dongmin! How are you, darling? What can I do for you?’

‘I wanted to make an appointment. Didn’t realise you would be working on Saturday,’ he laughed a little uncomfortably.’

‘I wasn’t to, frankly, but you know how it is. Things happen.’

Her cough barked down the line, a legacy of chain-smoking for years, a habit she only gave up two years ago.

‘So, how quickly do you need to see me?’

‘Oh, its not urgent at all. I just… I would like to talk to you.’

‘Darling,’ she interrupted him swiftly. ‘Can I tell you something? As a friend, not  - how shall I put it - in a professional capacity. Free of charge too, so if I were you - I would listen.’

Dongmin laughed. ‘I’m all ears.’

He had met Marion at his first Christmas party at Lindmann’s and they had clicked instantly. Married to Andrew, the longstanding head of their PE department, with her ready laugh and a penchant for the odd dirty joke, she was well known and liked amongst Lindmann’s staff. What had drawn Dongmin into her orbit was her ability to listen. Having people coming to him with their stories and complaints, Dongmin loved the fact that with Marion, he was the one who was doing the talking. One hour into knowing each other, he somehow told her more about himself then any the other member of staff during his first four months at Lindmann’s.

Right now, merely listening to the faint trace of the New York accent in her voice, not entirely gone even after twenty years in San Francisco, he felt himself relax.

‘I am more than happy to book you in for a session whenever you want, of course. As your friend though, there is something in your voice right now that I don’t like. Would you like to tell me what’s wrong and let me be the judge whether it’s urgent or not?’

‘I should have picked someone else,’ he gave an indignant huff. ‘You know me too well.’

‘Tough luck, darling. Never do business with friends. Rookie’s mistake. Now don’t beat around the bush and spill the tea.’

‘Good grief, Marion,’ he groaned. ‘Spill the tea? Really? Where do you even find these phrases?’

She laughed into the phone. ‘Perks of having a teenage daughter. I learn new _spruchs_ every day and use them in the most inappropriate moments. But enough of small talk. What happened?’

‘Bin and I are invited to a wedding.’

Somehow, it felt like a load was taken off his chest, now that the words were out in the open.

‘Well, that sounds marvellous, darling. What’s the catch?’

‘It’s in Busan.’

‘Ah.’

Another thing he loved about Marion was her ability to read between the lines.

‘You want to go - but you don’t want to go.’

‘That’s right,’ he sighed. ‘I’m really scared, Marion. I’m scared that if I go and my family rejects me again I will fall apart. Like I did… before. I don’t want to go through that ever again.’

‘You are much stronger now, Dongmin.’

‘But I’m scared it will happen. I don’t want to hurt Bin again. I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t know what to do. I promised him that I would make up my mind soon. About the wedding.’

‘How soon?’

‘In the next couple of days. I have been postponing the decision for months and we really need to book the tickets.’

‘You know what, darling?’ Dongmin could hear the rapid clicking of a keyboard. ‘Can you come on Monday? I will squeeze you in, no matter what. How does 8pm sound? Will you be able you make it?’

‘Oh my God, Marion. What about your family? Do you ever not work?’

‘Let me tell you a secret, darling. After twenty years of marriage, an evening on your own is a nice change. Andy will be fine; he is used to the odd emergency in my diary; I, in turn, try not to do it too often. And Emily will be only too glad that, for once, I’m not pestering her about having a healthy dinner and revising French. So – will you come?’

He felt a lump in his throat. ‘Thank you so much. I really don’t know what to do.’

Now, that the floodgates were open, the urge to talk was overpowering.

‘I have been awful to Bin lately. Not mean, simply distancing myself from him. I was scared. I am scared,’ he amended. ‘Scared that he will notice what a mess I am already – and I haven’t even decided to go yet.’

‘Does he know how worried you are about going?’

‘Well… I told him, sort of - but I don’t think he realises the extent of it. I have been… avoiding talking about it. Avoiding him, I guess.’

‘Oh, darling.’

‘What if I lose him, Marion? What if he gets tired of seeing me falling apart and having to pick up the pieces? What if he goes and finds someone else, someone with less… emotional baggage?’

He heard Marion breathe. Pausing, as if contemplating what to do, how to phrase her answer.

‘Ok. Listen. This is not what I will tell you on Monday because no matter what, you should not base your mental wellbeing and happiness on other people – you know that. But as a friend, let me tell you something else. At the very beginning, when you started coming to see me, he was there waiting for you after every session – like clockwork. His face lighting up when the door opened and he saw your face. Like a loyal dog waiting for his master - forgive me for the awful analogy. So much love would scare some people. But not you. You need it and he gives it to you in heaps. If he stuck with you through all that, you both will get through this too.’

‘Don’t talk about Binnie like he is a dog.’

‘Well, I’m glad that from my whole speech you have picked that particular aspect. Sorry about that. I’m a dog person; this was the highest compliment from me – albeit a weird one. I apologise. But back to you. You are a different person now, Dongmin, much stronger today than you were two years ago. You have worked hard to get where you are now.’

‘Thank you, Marion.’

‘Don’t thank me. You’ve done that, nobody did it for you. And Bin – I saw you both at the Lindmann’s summer party two weeks ago. By the way, you were avoiding me, weren’t you? Now I know why.’

Dongmin was glad Marion couldn’t see the way his face heated up. At the party, they had met but he had kept their exchange purposefully brief, aware that Marion would pick up the negative energy emanating from him within minutes. She was unnervingly good at things like that. Instead, he had let Bin lead the conversation, telling Marion about the engagement, having her in stitches after describing how he had buried the engagement rings in a bucketful of greasy drumsticks.

‘Sorry, Marion. I didn’t mean to hide from you too.’

‘It’s fine, darling. But I watched you both; I watched Bin looking at you, talking to you - and you know what? He loves you so much, Dongmin. If he could he would kiss the ground you walk on. I’m not saying worship – I’m an atheist – but you get my gist.’

He let out a surprised a laugh. ‘Years ago, my best friend in Busan said almost the same thing.’

‘See? He loves you so much. Give him a little credit for that.’

‘I know,’ he hung his head. ‘I should. I should trust him more.’

‘You should,’ her voice was brisk, then softened again. ‘Listen. I need to go, darling, I’m afraid; my appointment is here. One final piece of free advice before Monday. No matter how you decide about the wedding, try to tell Bin how you really feel.  I bet my newest pair of Loubotins that he worries about you. If you have been pulling away from him, he deserves to know why.’

‘You and your shoes.’

‘Don’t change the subject. Promise me, you will talk to him.’

‘This is so unfair.’

‘I'm just your friend right now. I don’t need to be professional. Just tell him, darling, clear the air. I haven’t been to a good wedding in a while.’

He burst out laughing. ‘You are shameless.’

‘Yes, I am. Now go and talk to that gorgeous fiancé of yours. Make up, send me a wedding invite. I need an excuse to buy another outrageously expensive pair of shoes.’

He felt his mood rising. ‘We will. You will be our guest of honour.’

‘Thank you, darling,’ her barking laugh wormed his heart. ‘I’ll see you on Monday, Dongmin.’

‘See you on Monday, Marion. Thank you.’

He put the phone away and leaned back in his chair. His chest felt lighter, as if Marion took a part of his burden and was carrying it for him now. For the first time in months he felt like he could breathe.

The decision was still to be made and his anxiety was not gone; there was also the matter of talking to Bin – he knew Marion was right. But he finally felt that he might be able to face the consequences of whatever decision he would make in the next couple of days.

There was something in the air, in the crystal clear blue of the sky, in the warmth of the wooden table under his palm that made it all seem possible. He could do it.

Watching the tourists passing by, he took another sip of coffee and for the first time in two years, almost defiantly, he let the dark memories flood in.

 

 


	11. Morning Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **chapter warning:** suicide attempt
> 
> There are no graphic details, there is no blood, nobody actually comes to harm - but I suppose it's all about intent so if you think this could be triggering, please do not read this chapter
> 
>  
> 
> .............................
> 
>  

## 

Morning Light

_He was sitting at the piano, fingers flying, smiling to himself. He loved ‘Maple Leaf Rag,’ it sounded so alive. It was a perfect song for a perfect birthday party for his perfect boyfriend._

_They booked a function room upstairs at Carlo’s, a trendy piano bar in their neighbourhood, and when Bin wasn’t looking, Dongmin pulled the manager aside and asked if, on the night of the party, he could use the magnificent grand piano they had downstairs for one song. He knew Bin would like his surprise. They had heard the piece performed live shortly after their move to San Francisco and Bin had teased him about it, asking how long would it take him to learn it._

_Well, tonight he would nail it._

_The sound of immortal Scott Joplin was flooding the empty apartment when the ringing of his phone interrupted the flow, the dissonance almost painful._

_He would have ignored it but out the corner of his eye he saw a Korean number. He snatched the phone. It was his father’s number and Dongmin’s stomach contracted with nerves.  A month ago he had sent his parents and Donghwi a long letter with 3 return flight tickets to San Francisco, begging them all to come and visit him. By this point it was his last resort. After three years of unanswered calls, texts and emails, he was ready to try anything._

_‘Dad?’_

_‘Yes.’_

_‘Dad, oh my god! How are you, how is Mum? Are you all well?’_

_‘Yes, we are well.’_

_Almost instantly, he was aware of the coldness in his father’s tone. A feeling of unease started creeping up his back._

_His palms got sweaty as he gripped the phone a little tighter. ‘Did you get the tickets, will you be able to come? I hope you will, I’ve missed you all.’_

_‘No, we won’t be coming.’_

_There was a sudden, icy tightness in his chest, constricting his breathing._

_‘Has something happened? Is everything alright?’_

_‘Nothing happened,’ his father’s voice sliced the silence like a knife, ‘apart from you bringing shame on our family. Please stop calling, stop writing, I will have nothing to do with you - unless you tell me right now that all of THAT is over and you are not living with HIM anymore.’_

_He could almost hear the capital letters in his father’s voice._

_‘HIS name is Moon Bin,’ his voice hardened too, ‘and I love him, Dad. He is a wonderful man.’_

_‘In that case we have nothing more to tell you. Please stop contacting us, I do not wish your younger brother to be corrupted by you.’_

_‘Can I at least speak to Mum?’ With shaking legs, he reached the piano stool and sunk down._

_‘Your mother doesn’t wish to speak to you.’_

_‘But, Dad – ‘_

_‘And stop calling me that, you are no son of mine.’_

_The line went dead._

_He wasn’t sure how long he sat at the piano, staring at the phone in his hand._

_…………………………..._

_Somehow he managed to live through Bin’s party that night. He smiled and said all the right things but deep inside, he felt as if a big part of him had just died._

_The ‘Maple Leaf Rag’ was a success. The party guests cheered and encouraged him to carry on, and he willingly played anything they requested, glad for the distraction. The club manager, who popped in to see if they had everything they needed, heard him playing and offered him a job on the spot. Dongmin smiled politely and said he would think about it, unable to form a single coherent thought on the matter. Leaving the club, he left the sheets lying on the piano, wishing never to see them again._

_The morning after, he simply switched off his alarm and didn't get up for work. Instead, he rolled over in bed and drifted off to sleep again, grateful for the oblivion it was bringing._

_An hour later, he felt himself being shaken awake by Bin._

_‘Hey, beautiful, what’s wrong, are you ok? You are going to be late.’_

_He murmured something inaudible, then curled up in a ball, turning away._

_‘Are you sick?’ Bin shook his shoulder gently. ‘Hang on, how much did you drink yesterday?’_

_He hadn’t drunk at all, refusing to have his pain numbed by alcohol, as if he needed to feel it in its entirety._

_Bin hugged him from behind and inhaled deeply. ‘You didn’t drink at all yesterday, Dongmin. Look at me. Something IS wrong, isn’t it?’_

_Unfortunately, there was no way he could pretend to be hungover to avoid the conversation, not with Bin’s keen sense of smell. And he was calling him Dongmin, which he only did when he was absolutely serious._

_‘My father called me yesterday.’  His voice was dull, devoid of any emotion._

_‘Oh my God!’ there was a note of cautiousness in Bin’s voice, despite the excitement. ‘Will they be able to come?’_

_‘No, they are not coming,’ he answered flatly.  ‘My father doesn’t want to hear from me ever again. Nothing has changed. I didn’t achieve anything. If anything, I made it worse.’_

_‘I am so sorry,’ Bin’s voice turned to whisper. ‘I’m so so sorry, beautiful. Do you want to talk about it?’_

_‘No.’_

_‘Do you want me to stay with you today?’ He felt his boyfriend’s arms wrapping themselves around him in a tight hug but his body remained rigid._

_‘No.’_

_‘I don’t want you to be on your own right now.’_

_‘Just leave me alone!’_

_His own rage shocked him to the core._

_‘I’m sorry. Please, Binnie, leave me alone now,’ he whispered, pulling his knees up to his chest and turning to face the wall._

_Bin stood up, hesitated for a moment, then ruffled his hair and left the room, only to return five minutes later._

_‘I rang Lindmann’s, told them you were unwell.  Fever, something viral. I know it wasn’t very mature but I thought the truth would have been too complicated at the moment,’ he sounded almost embarrassed._

_‘I need to go now, Min. I’ll come as soon as I can. I love you,’ he kissed the top of Dongmin’s head and was gone._

_The emptiness of their apartment was a blessing; it matched the hollow feeling inside him. He couldn’t remember for how long he lay there, until sleep enveloped him again._

_……………………………_

_For the first time in his life, he questioned the choices he had made. In an alternate universe, he would have a wife now, children perhaps, and they would all go and visit his parents every weekend. He would be able to see his little brother whenever he wanted, to go out with Jinjin and Rocky every Friday night, like they used to. He would be a respectable member of the local community in Busan, not the pariah he was now, banned to the other end of the world._

_Deep inside he knew, of course, that he would have never been able to go through with it, to live a lie. He couldn’t have done it - not to himself, nor to any poor girl who would have married him and become an unloved, unhappy wife of a husband whose heart belonged to another man._

_………………………….…_

_Knowing that his mum rejected him again - that even after three years she didn’t change her mind - that thought hit him the hardest. He remembered her coming to see him in their apartment back in Busan, shortly after he had told his parents about his relationship with Bin._

_‘Oh Dongminnie, my baby,’ there had been tears in his mother’s eyes. ‘It’s not too late yet to change your mind. I am sure this is just a phase; we all felt like this about somebody when we were young. It’s a fluke, it will go away, one day you will meet a lovely girl and all will fall into place. You were with Dahyun before after all.’_

_‘Mum, I was pretending’, his voice was patient. ‘I was always gay, I’ve known for ages, there is nothing I can do about it.’_

_‘And… And Dahyun? Have you thought of her? Have you thought of her at all? That poor girl…’ her voice cracked and she suddenly looked aged – aged and tired and somehow small – sitting forlornly on their old sofa._

_‘Mum,’ he sat down next to her, voice quiet, barely a breath. ‘Dahyun knew.’_

_‘What?’_

_‘She knew.’_

_He didn’t have the strength to look into his mother’s eyes, knowing the scope of their betrayal._

_‘You both lied to us?’_

_The pained whisper broke his heart._

_‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ he hung his head._

_‘But… Why?’_

_‘I… I don’t know. We liked each other and… we thought maybe it would be enough.’_

_The lie felt horrible, like tasting bile on his tongue - but he knew this was for the better._

_‘In the end I couldn’t do it anymore. It was my fault. There was nothing to be done.’_

_‘Don’t say that, my baby,’ his mother’s voice was braking anew. ‘There must be something that can be done; it’s not natural. It’s not what nature intended, it’s wrong.’_

_‘Mum,’ he crouched in front of her, looking at her, imploring, ‘there is nothing I can do. It’s like the colour of my eyes, I can’t change that either. This is what I am. This is who I am.’_

_Tears filled her eyes again. ‘I must have done something wrong.’_

_He took her hands in his. ‘Please don’t say that. You’ve done nothing wrong. I love you, you are the best mother in the world. You’ve done nothing wrong, Mum.’_

_She stood up abruptly. ‘You are breaking my heart, my son. I love you but you are breaking my heart. Think about it, it’s not too late yet.’_

_She kissed his hair and left._

_The door closed shut. He sat motionless, head in his hands._

_………..…………………….._

_A wave of rage twisted his insides, rage against society that deemed him a lesser, degraded, twisted human being, all because he loved a man._

_He couldn't cry. His burning, dry eyes were staring at the wall, seeing nothing._

_At some point the anger left him, leaving only emptiness._

_He never felt so alone. The face of his brother last time he had seen him, standing between his parents, his father's arms around his narrow shoulders, the young bright eyes looking at him with disgust – the memory haunted him._

_……………………………….._

_The afternoon shadows lengthened. The room sunk into soft greys of a rainy winter day, which later gave way to darkness. He lay without moving, head devoid of any thoughts. There was no point in turning on the lights, to get up, to do anything._

_At some point, the front door opened with a soft thud. Bin appeared in the bedroom, still in his long coat, cheeks pink from the nippy air outside._

_‘Hey beautiful, how do you feel?’ he asked cautiously, enveloping him in an embrace. His face was cold and somehow smelled like snow. How stupid, snow doesn’t have a smell, Dongmin thought vaguely._

_‘I brought you something to eat. Your favourite.’_

_He returned a minute later with a tray._

_‘I’m not hungry.’_

_Bin set the food on the nightstand and clambered into bed, coat, scarf and all. He pulled him into a hug and Dongmin let him. It felt good - but when Bin started talking, long, thin, careful probes into his soul, it hurt. Dongmin closed his eyes and tuned out. The tiredness was overwhelming and sleep was his cocoon, his safe place, place where everyone belonged._

_…………………………………_

_When he woke up, the space next to him was empty and he was covered with a blanket. Through the closed door he could hear Bin_ _’s_ _urgent whisper and Jennie's soothing voice._

_He vaguely wondered why Jennie was there but soon he closed his eyes again, not caring._

_A moment later the bedroom door opened soundlessly and Jennie knelt by his bed._

_'I have no idea what to say, honey,' she said simply. 'I am so sorry about what happened. I know nothing will make you feel better right now. But there are many people who love you for who you are, I want you to remember that. Binnie loves you, you are his everything. Your friends love you, I love you, God help me,' he could hear the tears in her voice._

_'All kids at Lindmann's adore you, even people at Carlo's were crazy about you yesterday.  You bring music into everyone’s lives, you bring beauty. You are Bin's muse, for goodness sake, he would never be where he is now, if it wasn't for you.”_

_He could hear her words but they ricocheted off him like raindrops off a windowpane, leaving nothing behind._

_She stood up and squeezed his shoulder. 'I'll come and repeat my speech when you feel a bit better, I don’t think it’s sinking in right now,’ there was the tiniest hint of smile in her voice. ‘Just don't do anything stupid, ok?'_

_She left the room.  The voices in the kitchen resumed again, whispering, indistinct, almost lulling him to sleep._

_After Jennie left, the apartment grew quiet. Bin shuffled around for a while, his footsteps sounding tired to death, then the bedroom door opened quietly._

_He lay half awake, listening to familiar sounds, the phone being put on the bedside table, the clank of Bin’s belt and the soft thud of his clothes falling on the floor. Rustling of the sheets as he got into bed and lay down behind him._

_Seconds later he felt two hands sliding under his t-shirt and flinched at the touch._

_Bin froze. ‘No, no, no, it’s not like that! Please, I don’t…. I don’t want anything. Not now, not like this,’ he sounded desperately sad. ‘I just want to feel your skin, please. I miss that. Nothing more, is that ok?’_

_‘Ok,’ his voice was barely a whisper, as if he forgot how to use it. He let Bin pull the t-shirt over his head and felt him snuggle against his back._

_They lay motionless, breathing in unison. He thought Bin was falling asleep but suddenly the body behind him started shaking with sobs and Bin burst into tears._

_‘Min, please come back,’ he sobbed. ‘I can’t see you like this, it breaks my heart. I don’t know what to do to help you. Please tell me, what should I do?’_

_‘Nothing, Binnie, you can’t do anything.’_

 _He paused. ‘I feel so empty.’_

_Bin hugged him tighter, without a word._

_‘I just don’t feel anything anymore. I don’t want to live.’_

 _The tiredness, like a black wave, was swallowing him whole and he kept falling - a perpetual freefall, with no relief of an impact that would end it all._

_Relief._

_He just wanted relief._

_He knew he was dragging everybody down; he was a  burden – to Bin, to Jennie. One more thing to worry about._

_They would be so much better without him._

_Without him, there would no shame on the Lee family either._

_Yes, the world would be a better place without him. He was only making everyone more miserable._

_For the first time that day, he felt the tiniest amount of energy pumping through his veins. Just enough, it should be just enough._

_Yes, he just wanted some piece._

_Some fucking piece._

_He dragged himself out of bed, careful not to wake Bin._

_The bathroom light was harsh, blinding his eyes for a moment – but the clinical glare somehow only intensified his resolve._

_He reached for the bathroom cabinet, yanked it open._

_Half of the packet scattered in the sink, his hands were shaking so badly._

_Finally he got one and held it carefully, its surface smooth, familiar._

_Finally relief._

_‘Min?’_

_He spun around._

_‘What… What are you…,’ Bin in the door froze, eyes on the razor in Dongmin’s hand._

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

_‘Minnie…’ Bin’s eyes were as huge as saucers, not leaving his right hand._

_The anger swelled in him. Anger at himself, at Bin, at the whole world._

_I was so close, he thought furiously. I had a chance to end everything, to finally get some piece._

_Now, it seemed that even that one last thing was gone, snatched from his hands._

_Or maybe not yet._

_‘Stay where you are, Binnie,’ he lifted the razor to his wrist._

_Bin flinched at the movement, ‘Don’t, Min, please.’_

_He felt dizzy, shaky with nerves. ‘Stay where you are.’_

_‘Don’t,’ Bin stopped in his tracks. ‘Please.’_

_‘Get out.’ Even to himself, he sounded shivery and dead tired at the same time. ‘Why are you even here?’_

_‘I… I need to pee.’ Bin was shaking, looking as if he was going to faint, but Dongmin could see that despite the panic he was thinking franticly, no doubt trying to save him in some heroic act of bravery and speed._

_‘Min,’ Bin’s whisper was barely audible, ‘beautiful, please let go of that razor. Please. Even if you do it, I will eventually get to you and stop the bleeding. Min, please.’_

_‘Not, if I do this,’ he held the razor at his throat._

_Bin looked as if he was about to throw up._

_His heart sped up, the adrenalin shooting through his veins like a potent drug, thrumming the same words over and over again._

_Just do it._

_Do it._

_Do it._

_Bin started crying, small helpless sobs, his whole body trembling._

_He felt almost sorry for him but mostly he just wanted to end it quickly so he could fall asleep and never wake up again._

_‘Min?’ Bin made a hesitant move, slow, with his hands up in a gesture of surrender. ‘I… I need...’_

_‘What?’ his hiss came out much quieter that he intended. More exhausted._

_Bin’s eyes welled up with more tears. ‘I need to pee, Min.’_

_‘What?’ he felt numb, completely out of his depth, but his heart was beating so hard he almost couldn’t hear Bin’s words._

_‘I need to pee,’ Bin’s teeth were chattering so hard he was barely able to speak. ‘I swear I won’t touch you, please just let me get to…’ he pointed at the toilet._

_‘No,’ he pressed the razor against his throat. ‘You are trying to trick me.’_

_‘I’m not,’ Bin shook his hand slowly, body still shaking. ‘I swear I’m not. I just don’t want to spend our last minutes together,’ he sniffed, ‘with piss running down my leg.’_

_The idea was ridiculous; he stepped back and leaned against the wall, keeping a safe distance._

_‘No! Stay where you are. Or go. Just leave! Bin, leave, ok? You don’t need to be here. Leave!’_

_‘No,’ Bin’s legs were wobbling but he didn’t budge. ‘I can’t let you do it. Please don’t. I don’t want to be left alone here, Min. I have nothing if you’re not with me. I am noting without you.’_

_‘That’s not true, Binnie,’ Dongmin’s fingers were getting numb, pins and needles creeping up his arm. ‘You have a family, friends, you have your art. You don’t need me, I'm only gonna drag you down like this.’_

_‘To hell with my art, Min!’ Bin was openly crying now, big heaving sobs shaking his whole body. ‘YOU are my art! Without you, I have nothing to paint. Please, beautiful,’ he stretched out his hand, pleading, ‘give me the razor. I can't live without you. You are my everything.’_

_He backed further against the wall. ‘Get out, Binnie.’_

_Bin’s eyes were pure panic._

_‘Min, please,’ his sobs were echoing in the room. ‘We are not finished here yet. I don’t want you to die. We still need to go to Lake Tahoe, remember? We said we wanted to go skiing?’_

_‘Just shut up and leave.’_

_Bin shook his head, tears streaming down his face. ‘I want to buy you a dog. You always wanted a dog. Min, please… The dog will be sad.’_

_‘I don’t have a fucking dog, Bin, stop it.’_

_‘We want to go to Paris, remember, Min? Paris in spring must be beautiful. And I want kids with you, Min. One day. I want to take our boy to a soccer game. I want to teach him how to ride a bike. Or if it’s a girl, we will buy her the most beautiful dresses in the world. She will be as beautiful as you. Please, Min. Please. Beautiful, please. I don’t want you to die, Min. We have so much to do yet.’_

_‘Stop it, Bin!’ The shout reverberated in the tiny bathroom. ‘Fucking stop it! Let me be! I just want this to be over, can't you understand that? I don’t want to live anymore!’_

_His hands were sweating so much, the razor was almost slipping out of his grip.’ I want to die, Bin, don’t you understand that? I want to die!’_

_In the dead silence, Bin’s heaving breaths felt like they would pierce his eardrums any second._

_God, how he hated this._

_He just wanted to fall asleep in piece._

_In front him Bin fell silent, cheeks streaked with tears - but straightened up suddenly, an ugly, hard resolve on his face._

_‘Ok. I get you, Min. But I’m staying here, ok?’ His voice shook so hard, Dongmin could hardly understand him. ‘I guess I am staying with you no matter what, Minnie. I love you.  Fuck. Fuck, oh god, I…’ Bin was gasping for air - big, panicked gulps, the legs shaking._

_‘Get out of here, Binnie. You don’t need to do this.’_

_For a moment they both stilled, then Bin gasped and watched in horror as a dark stain spread down the front of his PJs. He started sobbing like a child. ‘I'm so sorry, Min. I told you I needed to pee. I'm such a coward. I'm so sorry, Min, I’m so sorry!’_

_‘I don’t care, Binnie. It doesn’t matter.’ He was starting to feel drained, barely able to stand up, the adrenalin waning and tiredness seeping through his bones, all the way to the marrow._

_He just wanted to get it done and over with._

_Across the room, Bin stared at him, eyes sheer terror and a puddle at his feet, but not moving one inch._

_‘Go away, Binnie,’ his voice was barely a whisper, his vision blurry with tears._

_‘No. I’m staying here, I’m not leaving you, Min.’_

_Oh Bin._

_His heart ached. He didn’t plan for this. Not for Bin to be there, watching him._

_Not Bin who couldn’t see animals suffering and who had fainted last year when getting a jab before their holiday._

_Not Bin who had followed him across continents and was now ready to follow him till the very end._

_No._

_He couldn’t. Not like this. Not with Bin’s gaze, empty and almost dead already, trained on him, waiting for what was about to come._

_The razor fell out of his hand._

_Haze._

_Bin’s cry as he lunged forward, tackling him to the floor._

_The iron grip of Bin’s fingers on his wrist, yanking him closer to him, kicking the razor away._

_‘Leave me alone, Binnie. Please.’_

_What a fucking failure._

_What a joke._

_………………………………….._

_‘Let me be.’_

_Finally in bed, Bin held him with trembling hands. Trying not to say anything, not to overwhelm him - but the restraint was showing and Dongmin had to fight the urge to shove him away._

_It was too much. Everything was too much._

_‘I think I want to sleep alone.’_

_The arms wrapped around him didn’t budge._

_He strained in Bin’s embrace. ‘I… I need to be alone. Go. Please.’_

_‘Ok.’_

_Without a single word, Bin left the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him._

_……………………………………_

_In the morning he tripped over a curled shape sleeping on the floor in front of the bedroom door._

_He cursed as he nearly fell, barely managing to hold onto the doorframe, and stared at Bin who stirred and looked up, blinking wearily._

_‘God, Binnie? What the fuck are you doing here?’_

_Bin gulped and ignored his angry glare. ‘How are you feeling?’_

_‘Don’t know. Same?’_

_……………………………._

_‘Come to bed,’ he mumbled that night, not meeting Bin’s gaze. ‘Your neck will kill you in the morning if you sleep on the floor again._

_‘Are you sure?’ whispered Bin, the words thin and careful, like steps on broken glass._

_‘Yeah. It’s ok.’_

_He didn’t wait and disappeared into the bedroom, leaving the door open._

_……………………………._

_‘Would you like to maybe talk to someone, Min? You know, about what happened. It’s ok if you don’t want to talk to me but…’_

_In the darkness of their bedroom, Bin hesitantly reached out and took his hand._

_‘No.’_

_‘Maybe it would help, you know…’_

_The anger rose again, a stabbing surge of hotness in his gut._

_‘Binnie,’ he wrenched his hand free out of Bin’s grip. ‘If you make me go and see a shrink - if you somehow trick me into it – I will make absolutely sure that you won’t find me in time the next time round.’_

_Despite the dusk room, he saw how Bin’s face drained of colour._

_‘Ok, ok, I won’t! I swear!' Bin choked out. ‘I promise. But please, don’t say that. You will get better. I will figure out something, I promise. You will get better.”_

_For Bin’s sake he hoped it would be true._

_……………………………._

_At some point Jennie came again, her voice a gentle stream of comfort, interrupted by Bin’s sobs. He listened to the soothing cadence of her speech, the pattern of their conversation changing gradually, Bin talking now for what seemed for hours, the words indistinct, like a murmur of the sea._

_He realised much later that they must have come up with a plan of some sort because_ _Bin stopped trying to make him talk, retreated, but was around all the time. He would sit in bed next to him, sketching pad on his lap, drawing for hours, seemingly not paying him much attention. Some days he had his laptop with him, working from home, occasionally slipping out of the room to make a call to the office. At some point he heard him cancelling on Nathan and Tim._

_‘Sorry, mate, can’t make it tonight… No, still the same… I know, thanks, mate. See you.’_

_He knew it was Tim. It was the way Bin’s voice took on the slightest hint of British accent, the way he said ‘mate’. He used to tease him about it, today it barely registered._

_…………………………………….._

_It was as if their life stopped, was put on hold indefinitely. They never talked about what had happened but Bin stayed at home, brought him green tea during the day, fed him bits of food if he accepted it and held him in his arms at night._

_He thought he sometimes heard him crying in the early hours but felt too empty and exhausted to care._

_………………………………………_

_At some point later_ _– he wasn’t sure how much later, the time lost all its meaning back then - he heard Bin talking on the phone._

_‘I mean… Yes.’_

_His voice resonated, oddly aged and formal, behind the closed door. ‘A routine?’_

_‘Familiar… I understand.’_

_The words didn't mean anything to him but it struck him how tired and old Bin sounded all of a sudden. How weary to the bone his words echoed in the lonely space. Grown up._

_‘Thank you, I appreciate it.’_

_When Bin hugged him close that night he wanted to ask what the phone call was about but found he didn’t have the energy to do so. Soon, he fell into fitful sleep, dimly aware of Bin shifting next to him every time he stirred, the movements careful as if Dongmin was a precious vase that needed to be protected and handled with care at all times._

_…………………………_

_He was woken up by a sound of the curtains being drawn back and windows being opened. He blinked, blinded for a moment by the pale sunlight streaming into the room._

_Bin put down a cup of tea next to his bed._

_'Hey beautiful,' he said tenderly, 'I think I'm going to paint here today. The light is great right now.'_

_Still dazed, he sat up. There was an easel in front of the bed and the windowsill was clattered with brushes and tubes of paint. It must be early, he thought, because he could feel cool air stroking the sweaty skin on his bare chest._

_He hugged his knees and closed his eyes again. The fabric of his sweatpants felt oddly rough under his cheek._

_Almost dozing off, he listened to the flow of Bin's voice. It felt familiar, calming. Some days, Bin would work in absolute silence, another time he talked for hours but a response was never really expected, he would be inside his own head, trying to capture the moment in front of him._

_Right now Bin seemed in a talkative mood and Dongmin let the stream of words wash over him like a river, soothing and familiar._

_After what felt a long time - or short, he wasn't sure - he stretched and took the cup of green tea that was now cooling on the bedside table. It felt like sliding into a pair of old slippers, the routine was so comforting. Before every session, Bin had always made tea for him, brought food he liked - anything to keep my muse in the studio as long as possible, he used to joke._

_He drained the cup without realising, while staring out of the window._

_'Can you go back to how you were, beautiful? Whenever you're ready,’ Bin barely lifted his eyes from the canvas._

_As on autopilot, he put the cup down and resumed his position._

_'Oh yes, that's absolutely perfect,' he could feel, rather than see, Bin looking at him, hearing the awe in his voice._

_When the light changed too much, the session ended. Bin brought a bunch of grapes in a bowl, left them on the bed and, sliding his fingers into Dongmin’s hair, lingered for a moment. Then he was gone, back to the easel, tinkering with the details now, finishing for the day._

_Later he would sit on the floor next to the bed and sketch, pausing occasionally to feed Dongmin some of the grapes._

_……………………………._

_It became their new routine. Painting in the morning, later Bin bringing food, feeding him while he sketched. They never talked but he caught himself listening to Bin's stream of random reminiscences, almost against his will. When he recounted an old prank, something Jinjin did back in Busan years ago, he felt himself smile for the first time._

_He never felt the slightest inkling to look at the work in progress but he came to almost look forward to Bin waking him up every morning, to the smell of paint in the room mixing with the cool breeze from the windows thrown wide open._

_He knew they would not go on like this indefinitely - by now he was aware of the reality tugging at him, waiting for him to come back - but it still came as a shock when one morning, barely an hour into the session, he heard the familiar sound of a paintbrush being slammed into a metal tin in a triumphant gesture of work being done._

_He looked up._

_'It's finished. Oh my God, I think it's amazing! I suppose I shouldn't be saying it myself,' Bin almost blushed. 'Come and have a look,' his smile was radiating warmth so infectious he could almost feel it on his skin from across the room._

_Legs feeling slightly shaky, he stood up and went over to have look._

_The painting took his breath away._

_Yes, it was him sitting on the bed, hugging his knees, black hair messy, the old sweatpants creased and greying. But the whole scene was basking in a soft, warm glow that gave it a light, dreamlike feeling - a sharp contrast to the darkness he had felt during the last couple of weeks._

_He stared, unable to utter a single word._

_Watching the painting more closely, something about the set up felt slightly off. It took him a minute to figure it out. It was the light. The source of light in the painting wasn't the window, it was him. His shining bare skin was emitting a subtle radiance, illuminating everything around. It gave his silhouette an ethereal quality, made him into a godlike creature, almost impossibly beautiful._

_He loves me so much. He thinks I am beautiful even now. The thought almost choked him._

_He slid down onto the wooden floor and leaned against the wall, not taking his eyes off the painting, feeling dazed and strangely awake at the same time._

_Bin knelt in front of him and took his icy fingers in his warm hands. For the fist time in what felt like ages Dongmin looked at him. Looked at him, seeing. There was something new etched into Bin’s face now, something that had not been there before. The shared pain of the past weeks had transformed Bin’s eager, puppy-like features into something more grown-up and wiser. Less innocent._

_‘I love you, Min.’ Bin gave Dongmin’s hands a little squeeze. ‘You are so beautiful, inside and out. I love you so much. I’m not that good with words,’ he shrugged, sounding almost embarrassed, ‘but I’m so glad that you are here. With me.’_

_Dongmin looked at the loving face he knew so well and something hard and ugly inside him - something that had been crushing his chest since that awful day of his father’s phone call - started crumbling into tiny pieces._

_Bin was looking into his eyes, pleading. ‘You’re all I have, beautiful. Nothing else matters, not really. Please come back to me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want wake up next to you every morning, your smile the first thing I see. I want to hear you singing “Baby, Goodnight“ to me before I fall asleep every night. I miss that. You are the reason I breathe. Please come back.’_

_The tears finally came, flushing away the darkness within._

_‘I am back,’ he whispered._

 

 


	12. Dawn Revisited

## 

Dawn Revisited

 

‘Are you ok there, sir? Would you like anything else?’

A blond waitress, long hair in an elaborate do and silver hoop earrings glistening in the sun, eyed his empty coffee cup.

‘Oh,’ Dongmin blinked in confusion, then smiled back a little embarrassed that he was caught with his mind wandering. ‘No, thank you, that’s all. Could I get the check, please?”

Back in the streets, mingling with the crowd, his legs shook slightly. It was for the first time after what felt like eternity that he allowed his mind revisit those black days from two years ago. The darkness of the first couple of weeks, the days merging into an indistinct blur. The long evenings in the months afterwards, countless hours spent hunched up on Jennie’s sofa, fingers clutching a mug of tea. Talking. Listening to Jennie’s calm voice, gently washing over him.

Crying. The guilt spilling out, gushing outwards. What he did to Bin. To himself.

Anger.

Regret.

Shame.

He remembered the hazy March evenings rolling into April, then May. Days becoming longer, sun piercing through the fog as every Wednesday afternoon he would enter a cosy room with a couch in the bay window and Marion sitting in an old battered chair next to him.

Marion didn’t speak too much and Dongmin liked that. The stillness was soothing his throbbing thoughts.

At some point he stopped being angry. Or unbearably sad. The emptiness was still there – in the void where his family should be – but he knew now that it was not his fault.

 

……………………………….

 

 ‘I still miss them, you know?’

‘That’s alright,’ Marion smiled gently. ‘Even if you miss them, that doesn’t mean something is incomplete here,’ she tapped his chest lightly. ‘Take care of yourself, Dongmin.’

‘Thank you, Marion; I will,’ he smiled hesitantly.

Two weeks after finishing his last session, a courier delivered a parcel addressed to Dr Hudson. In it was a sketch of a dove.

Bin named it “Hope.”

 

……………………………...

 

Despite the early hour, the front door at Carlo’s was wide open and, after a moment’s hesitation, he entered. It took a second for his eyes to adjust after the blinding morning sunlight. The room was quiet, empty, the upturned chairs stacked on tables. The only things out of place were several cardboard boxes on the floor and a sound of clinking bottles behind the counter.

‘Hello?’

Isaiah, the new kid, popped up from behind the bar, dreadlocks sticking in all directions.

‘Hey, man, what’s up?’

‘Isaiah, how are you? You are early.’ he couldn’t help but smile at the eager young face.

‘Delivery of booze and some new chairs for the back room this morning. I told Josh I would help with unpacking for an hour or so. Extra bucks never hurt. He is at the back.’ he waved his hand in the direction of the office. ‘What are you doing here? You are not on tonight, right?’

‘No, I’m not. Jae is covering for me as usual. I was just walking past, saw the door open, couldn’t resist,’ he grinned.  ‘I thought I would find the Maple Leaf Rag score, I know it’s here somewhere, and go through it couple of times. Mr Walters’ birthday is coming up soon, Josh told me; it would be a nice surprise for him.”

‘Piano at home not good enough?’

He laughed. ‘Boyfriend at home still asleep. Didn’t want to disturb him.’

‘Jeez, that must have been some night,’ Isaiah whistled.

‘Shut up.’

‘Just saying,’ Isaiah raised his hand in mock surrender, a wide grin on his face. ‘You seemed in an awful hurry to get home yesterday.’

Dongmin didn’t react. He turned away quickly and headed for the back office, face heating up as he thought of the night before.

 

…………………………………

 

_The Friday crowd at Carlo’s was a typical mix of edgy youngsters eager to party wild, exhausted tourists who stumbled there by chance, lured in by the loud neon sign outside, and older regulars who were greeting the waiters like trusted friends and would collapse onto the bar stools with a heavy exhale that screamed weekend._

_The band was playing, not in full swing yet – too yearly for that – but Jerry, the saxophonist, was already closing his eyes as he stepped forward for his solo, not taking in much that was going on, sinking into the music._

_Dongmin was half-watching Jerry from behind the piano, following his lead, half keeping his eyes on the crowd. The mêlée of bodies and voices, the laughter and whispers – he never got bored of it.  He loved watching people. The flirting of colleagues on a Friday night after work, easy banter of old friends, the awkwardness of young not-yet-there couples. If he caught their looks towards their little stage - some sweeping over them, like they were a mere background, some politely interested, a handful genuinely captivated by the music – it always brought a smile to his face._

_Right now, gaze fixed on Jerry again, he suddenly felt his skin prickle – the sense of being watched. He lifted his eyes quickly and there was Bin, sitting at the bar, looking at him._

_The room suddenly felt hot. Everything around disappeared, the hum of dozens of conversations fading into the background. All he could see was a pair of dark eyes watching him from across the room._

_Bin lifted his glass, his feline features transformed by a hint of a smile._

_Dongmin tilted his head lightly, returning the greeting, then ducked his head to hide his heated face. His fingers raced across the keys, there was no need to think, even with his brain elsewhere – and he was grateful for it._

_Once he got his breathing under control, he looked up again._

_Isaiah was leaning across the counter, telling Bin something Dongmin couldn’t hear. He watched their exchange as a muted video, no words, just a smooth dance of gestures and smiles._

_Bin must have said something funny because Isaiah tossed his head back in laughter, gave him a quick nod and, after handing over the drink, moved onto the next customer._

_He turned the page. There was no need for it really, all pieces tonight were in his head, in his fingers – but he liked the security of having the sheet music in front of him, having something to look at. Right now, he stared at the long lines of notes, glad how grounded he felt after a moment, before he looked in Bin’s direction again._

_A young woman appeared at the bar, her features sharp and attractive, with lively eyes and calm, confident smile; hers was intelligent beauty and she knew it._

_The girl’s eyes took in her surroundings, pausing momentarily on Bin and scanning him quickly from top to toe, like a beautiful huntress eyeing her prey. The bar stool next to him was empty and she slid onto it, her movements fluid and confident, a sleek black dress revealing beautiful long legs. Isaiah appeared instantly, as if magicked out of thin air, and took her order._

_Dongmin ducked his head, eyes trained on the piano keys. A couple of years ago this would have made him jealous; now he just smiled to himself and carried on playing._

_When the song came to an end – the sound of Jerry’s saxophone like a cat mewling on a tin roof at night - he winked at Damien, the bass guitarist and the self-proclaimed band leader._

_‘It’s nearly time for a break. I can play one solo number and you can go now if you want.’_

_Damian merely gave him a thumbs-up and grabbed the mic. ‘Thank you, everybody!’_

_Over the applause, he gave Dongmin a quick grin and smiled back at the audience. ‘And now, ladies and gentlemen, Mr Dongmin Lee.’_

_Dongmin ducked his head a little and leaned towards his microphone. ‘ I hope you forgive me for trying something different. For all the lovers of musicals here tonight.’_

_The intro to On My Own from Les Misérables filled the room, slowly rippling through the space._

_Bin’s eyes met his over the girl’s shoulder and Dongmin gave him the smallest, almost imperceptible smile. Bin loved musicals. The way he returned the smile, Dongmin saw Bin understood the song was for him._

_He knew the song called for a singer but it had to do as an instrumental. No matter how much he loved Bin, he would not be seen dead belting out a famous number from a famous musical in public – so he kept his eyes on the keys and played._

_When he lifted his head, Bin was gone. The whisky glass was left empty on the bar, like a lonely soldier._

_Dongmin scanned the room. Amused, he noticed that the blonde girl Bin had been talking to was looking around too._

_The last tones of the arpeggios lingered in the air. There was a round of applause, although his regulars were most likely a little surprised by this sudden diversion from his usual repertoire. Hiding a smile, he leaned to the mic. ‘Thank you.’_

_Before he had a chance to get off the stage, Isaiah appeared with a glass of Martini in his hand. Instead of walking past him and delivering the drink to one of the customers, he put the glass on the piano. The golden liquid swayed slightly, reflected in the polished black surface._

_‘A drink for you from the gentleman at the bar who just left.’_

_Dongmin grinned, suddenly feeling the need to play the game to the end._

_‘What gentleman?’_

_‘A young Asian guy, tall - he was sitting at the back, talking to the hot babe in the black dress.’_

_He knew better than to pretend he didn’t notice him at all - that wouldn’t have been plausible. People noticed Bin and from his point he could see everybody at the bar._

_‘Oh, I’ve seen him. Well, that was nice of him,’ he took a sip of the Martini._

_Isaiah handed him a piece of folded paper, a hint of conspiracy in his grin. ‘He left a note for you as well. ‘_

_Dongmin’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Have you read it?’_

_‘No?’ Isaiah shuffled a little uncomfortably._

_Dongmin laughed. He knew where this was going.' Have you opened it?'_

_‘Come on man,’ Isaiah rolled his eyes a little. ‘I thought it would be his number; just wanted to have a look. I thought that he was checking you out. You see - he wasn’t really interested in the girl, I could tell. And he looked kinda hot.’_

_Smiling, Dongmin turned away and opened the note._

_Bin’s familiar scribble in Hangul._

_‘Hurry home. I want you.’_

_Flash of Bin’s body, shiny with sweat, in his hands. The smoothness of his stomach under his lips._

_Closing his eyes for a moment, he forced himself to breathe slowly. Now was not the time._

_Isaiah was still standing there like an eager puppy, almost bouncing up and down, a cheeky, not quite innocent grin on his face._

_‘Did he leave his phone number then?’_

_‘No, he didn’t.’_

_‘Oh, crap, I thought he would,’ the boy’s face faltered._

_He supressed the urge to laugh. Isaiah looked so disappointed, like a little child who broke his favourite toy._

_‘Are you playing a matchmaker?’_

_‘I’m sorry,’ Isaiah suddenly looked mortified, ‘I don’t even know if you would be interested… I mean, I shouldn’t have assumed that you are… crap, that’s your private life, I’m sorry.’_

_He laughed. ‘It’s ok, I’m only joking. And yes, I am.’_

_Deep inside, he felt oddly touched by the youngster’s concern about hurting his feelings._

_….………………………_

_The evening was drawing to a close. Isaiah was pouring the last round, while simultaneously washing the glasses, still smiling and chatting politely but not taking any more orders.  Dongmin was going through the last couple of numbers, playing more to himself now, almost forgetting people who were still there. He loved the last half an hour or so. The band has dispersed but he could linger if he wanted to. Nobody paid any attention to him anymore and he would sometimes switch to ballads from old Korean dramas he used to watch with Bin back in Busan._

_Finally the bar emptied. Isaiah locked the door with a sigh of relief._

_‘Phew, done. Good night tonight. Josh will be here any minute to lock up. Do you think we have time to go through my number for next Friday?’_

_Bin’s note was burning a hole in the breast pocket of his shirt and he felt himself growing impatient. Trying his best not to show it, he smiled apologetically. ‘I'm really sorry but I need to go. I will text you, we will find time to meet one more time before Friday.’_

_‘I’m nervous,’ admitted Isaiah with a painful grimace._

_‘You shouldn’t be. You practiced with us; the arrangements are all agreed – it’s gonna be fine.’_

_‘But I sort of hate the songs. The are so OLD.’_

_Dongmin sighed and closed the piano lid. Isaiah was watching him, face tense._

_‘Look,’ he smiled at the anxious boy in front of him. ‘I know you want to become a singer – and you’ll get there. Your voice is great. But right now - until you establish yourself and will be in a position to choose the songs you want to perform - you have to go with the flow of the place. And that means songs for, how you call it, old people.’_

_‘I don’t mind old songs,’ Isaiah huffed. ‘I love listening to Ella Fitzgerald. I just don’t want to be the one singing them, you know. They are so old-fashioned.’_

_‘Give it a go, ok?’ Dongmin winked at him and stood up. ‘Josh gave you a chance – you have been promoted from being a waiter to being a singer next Friday. If it’s a success, he might make it into a more permanent thing. And right now, the best way to achieve it is to pick something people will recognise – even if it’s a bit of a cliché, ok? Tell you what – I’ll come around on Wednesday night, after Josh closes. We will go over all the songs, just you and the piano. Then on Friday we’ll have a quick get-together before we start, all of us. Ok?’_

_‘Ok.’ Isaiah sighed and hung his head. ‘I just want to be able to get there, you know? To do what I love.’_

_He shuffled a little uncomfortably. ‘One day, I would like to be… you know, like you. You have a job you love -  no, two jobs, you said you were a music teacher. Is it just to pay the bills or do you really like it?’_

_Dongmin paused for a moment, pondered the question. ‘Some days I hate it, most of the time I really love it. There is something about their faces, the students I mean, when they listen to a brilliant piece of music for the first time. They just light up – and think they discovered America. It’s marvellous to watch.’_

_‘See, that’s what I mean! You love what you do, you are a great pianist, you know how to talk to people, to posh people, I mean. Don’t tell me you have a boyfriend and all is going well?’_

_‘Yes, I do actually,’ Dongmin felt his face heating up a little._

_Isaiah rolled his eyes. ‘Why was I expecting that? And you look good. It’s unfair, man.  I’m poor, black, grew up in Bronx, you can hear it when I speak, what chances do I have?’_

_‘What brought you to San Fran if you grew up in New York?’_

_‘Parents divorcing fours years ago.’ Isaiah’s face was pinched uncomfortably. ‘My mum’s family is from Oakland and after the divorce she came back, that’s how I ended up here. But it’s not great being a poor black kid, neither in Bronx, nor in San Francisco. I bet you wouldn’t want to swap with me,’ the boy’s eyes grew hard._

_‘It’s not great being a gay kid in South Korea, poor or otherwise,’ Dongmin looked at him quietly._

_Isaiah frowned. ‘But you are here, not in Korea, it’s different here.’_

_‘I grew up in Korea and had to pretend all my life I was somebody else. I only came to the States five years ago because my family wanted nothing to do with me after I finally came out. I haven’t seen my parents or my brother since I left. The only time I spoke to my father while here was two years ago. He told me he didn’t want to hear from me ever again unless I told him I was not living with my partner anymore. He gave me an ultimatum, my family of my relationship. Stuff like from Victorian novels that you were made to read at school.’_

_Somehow it felt empowering to be saying those words aloud for the first time and seeing they didn’t break him, that he was still himself._

_He watched Isaiah’s eyes change._

_‘I guess you chose your man, if you are still here.’_

_‘Yes, I did.’_

_‘God, he must be worth it.’_

_‘He is.’_

_‘Well, the guy from tonight doesn’t have a chance then.’_

_Dongmin felt Isaiah wanted to stir the conversation into other, less depressing direction and gratefully grasped at the chance to do so. Better keep the Pandora’s box closed._

_‘Well, about that guy from tonight,’ he grinned cheekily. ‘I do have his number.’_

_Isaiah gasped. ‘You badass! What about your boyfriend and your happy relationship? And anyway - how? You said he didn’t give it to you.’_

_‘He didn’t need to. I’ve had his number for eight years,’ he raised his eyebrows slightly,_ _giving Isaiah a tiny wink._

_‘Wait, what? Hang on – ‘_

_He watched the boy’s face light up as it dawned on him._

_‘Oh my God, it was him tonight, wasn’t it? Your man.’_

_‘Yes, that was him.’_

_‘Wow, you are a lucky bastard.’_

_‘I guess I am,’ Dongmin grinned._

_Isaiah smirked. ‘Go, your man is waiting for you.”_

_Dongmin grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. ‘See you on Wednesday. I will text you about the practice.’_

_He could feel his pace quicken; in his head he was at home already, opening the door, reaching for Bin, pulling him close._

_Isaiah’s voice stopped him in the door. ‘And the note? What was in the note?’_

_His laugh echoed in the empty room as he looked over his shoulder. ‘None of your bloody business.’_

_Once outside, he didn’t have the patience to look for a cab and started running. Isaiah was right, he would never want to swap with him. He wouldn’t swap with anyone. Homesick, hurting, lonely – it didn’t matter. If he could turn back the time he would do it all over again, not changing anything if it meant to have Bin in his life; he knew it now with absolute clarity._

_The street was shiny with rain, streetlamps casting pools of light on the pavements and the rushing crowds. The raindrops splattering against his face reminded him of that first night eight years ago._

_Faces around him blurred into stream of colours. Soon his lungs were burning but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered but the finish line, the flat on the top floor, his home, his man._

_Inside the building, he didn’t bother to turn on the lights. His feet were barely touching the ground as he raced up the stairs in the dark._

_On the upper floor Bin stood in the door, the soft light from the living room behind him forming a halo around his tall frame._

_‘Beautiful.’_

_He felt his heart throbbing as he watched Bin’s still face, hidden in the shadow._

_‘Stop painting me in your head. Not now; we’ve done that this morning.’ Barely able to breathe, he couldn’t supress a chuckle._

_Bin’s eyes slid over his damp hair, the white shirt soaked with rain._

_‘True,’ he said slowly. ‘I’ve been painting you for almost the whole day today. That’s not what I want to do right now.’_

_Holding Bin’s gaze, Dongmin came so close he could feel the heat radiating from Bin’s body._

_‘What do you want to do, Binnie?’_

_With a jerk he felt his body being pulled inside, Bin’s fingers gripping his wrist, his movements hurried, urgent, his hands reaching for him, their breath mingling together._

_He kicked the door shut behind them._

_‘You came to Carlo’s tonight,’ he sighed into Bin’s kiss. ‘You haven’t done that in ages.’_

_‘I wanted to see you. I missed you.’ Bin’s fingers were tagging at the hem of his shirt, sliding underneath._

_‘I’ve only been gone for couple of hours,’ he laughed a little. ‘How could you have missed me?’_

_‘You looked so beautiful when I was painting you,’ Bin murmured between kissing his forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. ‘I wanted you so much, and then you disappeared. That was unfair.’_

_‘How was it unfair?’ Dongmin tilted his head, allowing Bin to press kisses along his jawline. ‘I had to go to work. But you know what’s unfair? You could at least look at me. I couldn’t . I had to stare at the wall the whole day, couldn’t move. Couldn’t watch my hot fiancé. I could only picture you in my head, not being able to move. For hours. Freezing.’_

_Bin’s stifled giggles warmed the skin of his neck. ‘Hey! I brought in and extra heater; I’m not that mean!’ He started unbuckling Dongmin’s belt._

_‘You try it next time,’ Dongmin laughed, grabbed Bin’s t-shirt and yanked it over his head. ‘Lying around naked for several hours...’ He tossed the shirt to the side._

_‘It wasn’t that many hours; you had a break – we had lunch!’_

_‘-and you’ll see how it feels. Unable to see you.’_

_He gripped Bin’s hips, swivelled them both around and pushed him against the door. ‘I think I need a compensation for today,’ he whispered into Bin’s ear._

_Bin didn’t fight it. He leaned his forehead against the glossy wood and laughed, the breathy sound of his voice like warm honey for the soul. ‘What do you want, beautiful?’_

_‘You.’_

_‘Right here, right now? Against the door? I’m all yours.’_

_He pressed his body into Bin’s. ‘I prefer to fuck you in my own bed.’_

_‘It’s our bed, beautiful.’_

_‘If I say my bed, it sounds sexier,’ he breathed against Bin’s hair._

_‘Hey! Those are my words!’_

_‘From ages ago, Binnie. They are mine now.’_

_He laughed as he scooped Bin up in his arms and carried him to the bedroom._

 

…………………………..

 

’Did you find the music?’

Isaiah looked up from behind the bar where he was stacking shelves with bottles.

’I did,’ Dongmin lifted his hand in greeting as he walked towards the door. ‘I’ll see you on Wednesday.’

’See you on Wednesday. Thank you, man.’

An hour of practising under his belt and the Maple Leaf score in his bag, he felt light as he left Carlo’s and turned right to head home.

He broke off another piece of the bagel when the phone beeped in his pocket.

_Where are you??_

 

_Getting u breakfast did u sleep well?_

 

_No! there is something horribly wrong with the bed!!_

 

_Binnie ffs don’t tell me u broke the bed_

 

_NO! but there IS something wrong with it_

 

_What? It’s new what can b possibly wrong with the bed???_

 

_U not in it_

 

He almost choked on the bagel he was chewing and started laughing.

 

_Shall I come and fix it, Binnie?_

 

 _Asap_

 

…………………………..

 

He let himself in and hung the keys on a little hook near the door, trying to make as little noise as possible.

The apartment was quiet.

Tiptoeing through the hallway towards the bedroom, he tried to listen for any signs of Bin being in the shower or in the kitchen but there were none.

Still clutching the paper bag with bagels, Dongmin peered into the bedroom. Bin was still in bed, asleep again, his bare chest rising a falling quietly. In his hand he was holding his phone.

Dongmin smiled. Closing the door quietly behind him, he went to the kitchen.

As he made coffee for Bin, his mind felt curiously weightless, as if his brain was emptied of its entire content.

No more worries, no more insecurity.

It felt good.

He put the bagels in the microwave to warm them up and laden with everything, he made his way back.

He put the tray on the nightstand and, watching Bin, simply waited until the aroma of warm bagels and fresh coffee filled the bedroom.

‘Hey.’

The sunlight was filtering through the curtains, making Bin blink a little wearily.

‘I’ve come to fix the bed,’ he grinned into Bin’s sleepy face.

‘You are doing a lousy job so far.’ Bin yawned and arched his back like a stray cat in a back alley.

‘What?’ huffed Dongmin, half-laughing at Bin’s expression. ‘I brought you breakfast.’

‘That hasn’t solved the bed problem; it’s still missing you in it.’

Bin’s pout was cute, even after all those years and Dongmin knew that Bin knew it.

‘I’m coming, I’m coming,’ he lifted up the covers but before he could slide under, Bin shook his head.

‘Nope.’

What?’

‘No access with clothes on.’

‘I ran like an idiot to get you the breakfast you love and you’re throwing me out of my bed. I’m hurt, Binnie.’

Smiling, Dongmin plopped down on the bed, even more determined than before not to budge.

‘In that case I will have to do this,’ grinned Bin and started pulling off Dongmin’s shirt.

All clothes discarded, he pressed into Bin’s body, still warm with sleep and trailed his fingers through a big smudge of paint on Bin’s chest.

‘What were you painting at night? Finishing?’

He reddened a little at the thought of Bin’s eyes on him in the studio the previous day.

Bin smiled and pulled him in for a tighter hug. ‘I did. It’s more or less finished. But then I got so excited, I couldn’t go back to sleep at all, so I was working on the sketch for Jennie. It’s nearly done but I feel like there is something missing.’

‘Nonsense, you just don’t want to let go. She will be so pleased; it’s such a lovely picture, so tender. You know it reminds me of Madame Le Brun. Her self-portrait with her daughter. You sure you didn’t get inspired by her?’

‘Oh shut up, will you? For a piano tinker you are an awful know-it-all… ouch!’ Bin turned around, glaring, as Dongmin’s fingers poked him painfully in the ribs.

‘I am surprisingly _not_  ignorant when it comes to late 18thcentury French artists? I can’t help if I have a good memory and your art history books have been strewn all over the place for years,’ he laughed in Bin’s face and avoided a well-aimed revenge bite.

‘You seemed so happy yesterday,’ Bin whispered into his shoulder, the words suddenly shy. ‘And now too. Like… The way you used to be.’

Dongmin's face heated up. 'I am happy. I am happy you are with me, Binnie. Have I ever told you how much I love you? Because I haven’t been saying it often enough. I’ve been so… awful to you lately.’

‘Awful?’ Bin frowned a little. ‘How awful?’

‘I mean… Not really awful, maybe - just... not talking to you, pulling away…’

‘Oh, that….’

From the change of Bin’s tone, Dongmin could hear Bin knew exactly what he was talking about.

‘I’m sorry, Binnie. I was scared… I did tell you it was about the wedding – and that’s true; I didn’t lie – but…’ he swallowed nervously, ‘I was terrified that if I go and my parents say they won’t see me – that I would fall into that black hole again. That maybe I would want to kill myself again.’

‘Oh, baby,’ Bin wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close.

‘I was scared that you might get tired of me being a mess. That you might leave me one day...’

‘Oh, beautiful, I would never…’

Dongmin silenced him with a finger to his lips. ‘But you know what I realised yesterday night?’

Mutely, Bin shook his head.

‘I spoke to Isaiah after work; he brought me the drink from you, by the way – thank you,’ he smiled a little at the memory. ‘We talked after we finished; I told him how my Dad had made me choose – and it made me realise that no matter what had happened, I made the right choice. I want to be with you, Binnie. If I could turn back time, I would have done it all over again.  And when I see my father in October and he will give me the same choice – I won’t have to think. I will choose you again. I can live without my family, however awful that sounds. But I don’t want to live without you. I’m not saying it won’t hurt. But I made my decision five years ago and if I get asked again, it will be easy to say that I want to be with you – because I had decided ages ago. Nothing will change, Binnie. I don’t think I'm afraid anymore, Binnie, of what might happen. I think I will be okay when we go.’

Bin was watching him wordlessly, silent tears rolling down his face. ‘Did you say when we go, Min?’

Dongmin leaned and wiped the wetness off Bin’s cheeks.' I did. Rocky's invite came yesterday, you saw it, didn’t you? Let's book the flights – two of them.’

He watched the feline features he loved above everything else transformed momentarily by a beatific smile. 

Bin kissed his wet fingertips. 'You know how much I love you, right? It will be fine.'

And suddenly it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, it could actually be true.

 

 


End file.
